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• # 




















THE INNER SECRET 

BY 

CHRISTOBEL GALLUP 


Flower in the crannied wall, 

I pluck you out of the crannies;— 

Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, 
Little flower—but if I could understand 
What you are, root and all, and all in all, 

I should know what God and man is. 

—T ennyson. 


Published by 
Good Thoughts Press 


For Sale By 

WILLIAM W. WALTER 

326 NEW YORK STREET, 
AURORA, ILLINOIS 





COPYRIGHT 1923 
BY 

WILLIAM W. WALTER 


NOV 30 '23 


©C1A705189 

■O'lt ■ A 


To the millions of unprejudiced people 
who are athirst in the desert, 
this book is lovingly offered, 
as a cup of cold water. 


“And John answered him, saying, Master, we saw 
one casting out devils in thy name, and he followeth 
not us; and we forbade him, because he followeth not 
us. But Jesus said, Forbid him not: for there is no 
man which shall do a miracle in my name, that can 0 
lightly speak evil of me. For he that is not against 
us is on our part. For whosoever shall give you a 
cup of water to drink in my name, because ye belong 
to Christ, verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his 
reward.” 


Mark 9:38-41. 
































, 












- 




































































































































































































































































































































































































CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. Surprises . i 

II. “The Grand Point”. 9 

III. Capital “M”. 19 

IV. Improving One’s Time. 35 

V. Daffodils . 55 

VI. New Light on an Old Path. 65 

VII. The Angel Throng. 78 

VIII. Digging For Hid Treasure. 97 

IX. Moonlight In Russia.113 

X. An Evening in Stratford.13 1 

XI. Clover .H 4 

XII. Mrs. Fox Gets Busy.152 

XIII. The Chalice and The Chair.178 

XIV. “Though I Make My Bed In Hell”-185 

XV. “Thou Art There”. 197 

XVI. “Let There Be No Strife, I Pray Thee” .202 

XVII. In Romany.207 

XVIII. Clover and Mustard Seed.216 

XIX. The Little Red Hen.223 

XX. “Whatsoever” .238 

XXL The Harvest Home.241 

XXII. The Mountain Call.247 

XXIII. A Moonlight Sonata.253 

XXIV. Rose-of-the-World .267 

XXV. “I” .274 

XXVI. Romany Tan.281 










































































































































CHAPTER I. 

Surprises. 

As soon as Beatrice was fully settled in her room at 
the hotel, her steamer trunks unpacked and the lesson- 
sermon read for the day she decided to occupy the 
afternoon by walking up the avenue a few blocks to 
a large building where one of the city’s Christian 
Science reading rooms used to be located before her 
long absence from American shores. 

She vividly enjoyed the walk through the crisp 
April air, the throngs of happy shoppers and the gay 
appearance of everything and everybody,—for, where 
she had been, war and famine, pestilence and death 
had left their unmistakable traces upon the very land¬ 
scape. Yet after a little, as the realization swept over 
her again of the hundreds of thousands who were 
starving in Europe and Asia, it seemed to her that 
she must call out and stop the sleek, well-groomed 
women entering the fashionable tea-rooms for an 
utterly superfluous meal. 

But she reassured herself by repeating the well 
known sentences from Mrs. Eddy’s book, “Science 
and Health,” “Divine Love always has met and al¬ 
ways will meet every human need.” “Of course I 
l 


2 THE INNER SECRET 

don’t pretend to understand it,” she thought. “I 
couldn’t see that it met the need of those poor Arme¬ 
nian refugees fleeing from the Turks, only in so far 
as some hand extended by the Relief Workers gave 
them the help. What can it really mean? It must be 
TF APPLIED.’ But then, I can’t expect to under¬ 
stand the mysteries of metaphysics. I asked a teacher 
once what that sentence meant and I will confess— 
just to myself—that he gave me no satisfactory ex¬ 
planation. He just floundered around.” 

The crowds increased as she turned into the cross¬ 
town thoroughfare where the building containing the 
reading room was located. As she noticed the tense, 
strained expression on some of the faces, the heavy, 
discouraged, sagging lines on some others, again she 
thought, “How has Divine Love met their need? I 
don’t understand!” Then there flashed through her 
mind a quotation from her beloved text-book, which 
had been in the Lesson she had just been reading 
(page 490) “The Science of Mind needs to be under¬ 
stood. Until it is understood, mortals are more or 
less deprived of Truth.” “That is it,” she mentally 
exclaimed. “These people here and those over there 
don’t understand the Science of Mind.” Then, like 
a flash, came the sharp query, “Do I understand it?” 
Before she could frame a reply she found herself 


SURPRISES 3 

entering the building and stepping into one of the 
elevators. She suddenly recalled the fact that a prac¬ 
titioner of Christian Science whom she had found 
extremely helpful upon her visits to the city also 
had his office in this building. She resolved to go 
to see him, ask him some questions, and give a brief 
report of her sojourn in foreign lands (although they 
no longer seemed “foreign” to her, but just neighbor 
lands) and to feel his warm welcome home. 

The reading room had a dozen or more visitors, 
mostly reading their lessons. As Beatrice approached 
one of the tables she felt an unfamiliar something 
about the place. What was it? Everywhere there 
were black books, familiar enough, with their gold 
seal on the covers. She puckered her brows. What 
was it? Well, never mind. She would sit down in 
a big chair with a copy of the Christian Science 
Journal and look it over, for she had not seen one for 
six months. 

But she could not find any Journals,—nor any 
Sentinels. Perplexed she stepped to a table, picked 
up a black book and read the title, “Unity of Good, 
by Mary Baker Eddy.” Yes, she must be in the right 
place. She would get a Monitor and read that. But 
there were no Monitors! Determined to investigate, 
she returned to the ante-room where an attendant 


4 THE INNER SECRET 

stood ready to serve possible customers. Beatrice 
stepped up to the counter and remarked pleasantly, 
“It seems good to be back in a land again where there 
are Christian Science reading rooms. I wish to buy 
a Journal, please,” and placed thirty cents before the 
attendant. The latter frowned slightly as though 
annoyed and said, “It is quite evident you have been 
away and out of touch with headquarters. We do not 
sell, loan nor read the Christian Science Journal, so- 
called.” Too dumbfounded to speak at once, Beatrice 
simply stood and stared. Then, collecting herself, 
said “But then I’ll take a copy of the daily paper, the 
Monitor.” 

“We do not carry the Monitor either. They are no 
longer authorized literature.” 

“‘Oh,” said Beatrice, somewhat enlightened. 
“They have new editors and publishers?” 

“Not exactly, but, nevertheless, they are not now 
considered the organs of the Mother Church,” and 
the attendant smilingly but firmly took up the thirty 
cents and handed it to Beatrice, who asked, “Who 
says they are not the organs, or are unauthorized?” 

“The Church Manual.” 

“Oh, a new one? A new Manual? I thought the 
Manual was divinely inspired, in fact Eve often been 
told that the same hand that wrote Science and 


SURPRISES 5 

Health wrote the Manual. And Mrs. Eddy plainly 
says 'no human pen or tongue taught me the Science 
contained in this book, Science and Health.’ So I 
don’t see how any one could change the Manual, and 
in my copy we are enjoined by a by-law to subscribe 
for and read the Christian Science periodicals, so—” 

"My dear woman, don’t you know what has hap¬ 
pened? That error is attacking our church from 
within as well as without? Don’t you know that 
Armageddon is upon us? Where have you been?” 

"Yes, I fancy I’ve seen Armageddon,” returned 
Beatrice drily. "I’ve just comb from Armenia, and 
before that I was in Vienna, and before that in 
France and Belgium.” Her blue eyes looked steadily 
into those of the attendant’s. "Don’t tell me I know 
nothing of Armageddon.” 

"Well, now that you are here, let me just tell you 
that error’s last thrust has been at our church and 
our cause.” 

"I wish I could believe it was error’s last thrust. 
You haven’t been fleeing from Turks and Kurds, I 
take it.” 

"Let me give you a bit of timely advice. Go to a 
loyal practitioner and learn what has happened while 
you have been away. This is no place to discuss it,” 
added the attendant firmly. 


6 


THE INNER SECRET 


“I have been feeding the starving and clothing the 
naked and rescuing the widow and the fatherless, and 
now that I’ve returned home for refreshment I find 
I must not buy nor read the Christian Science liter¬ 
ature, and I am stunned. Where shall I find mental 
refreshment ?” 

“In our leader’s writings. The whole truth is 
there. They do not change. They—” 

“Oh, in regard to that,” interrupted Beatrice 
quickly, “I had with me a complete set of her books, 
also an old copy of Science and Health that was my 
mother’s. I enjoyed comparing it with the present 
edition.” 

“‘What edition was your mother’s?” inquired the 
attendant quickly. 

“I don’t remember that, but I know it was pub¬ 
lished in 1898 and had an index.” The other lady 
seemed to be counting on her fingers, ten, fifteen, 
twenty-five. Then she replied, “Well, I suppose 
there was no harm in that. Mrs. Eddy had thor¬ 
oughly revised it by that date.” 

Harm in it!” ejaculated Beatrice indignantly. 
“No one better tell me there was harm in it. I lived 
in those books and the Bible through those awful 
months.” 

The attendant quickly reassured her by saying, 


SURPRISES 7 

“I did not mean to convey there was any harm in 
studying those editions of our text-book. I spoke 
hastily. But here come some other people. Go and 
see a practitioner as I suggested to you.” 

Beatrice was quite willing to do so, for her expe¬ 
rience in the reading room had not been at all helpful, 
and she felt a great sense of confusion, as she an¬ 
swered, “Yes, I will consult my practitioner. He 
used to be in this building,—Mr. Malcolm. Can you 
tell me the number of his office?” 

“Mr. Malcolm is not a Christian Science prac¬ 
titioner.” 

“Oh, yes. The one I refer to is, a splendid one, 
Mr. John Malcolm.” 

“No such person is now listed. Here is the list 
of loyal Christian Scientists who have offices in this 
building,” and she handed Beatrice a framed type¬ 
written list of names. 

“M,—M,—M,—” murmured the latter as her fin¬ 
ger ran down the list. “No, he isn’t here. How 
strange! He must have moved away! I am so 
sorry!” 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” said the attendant 
gently as she waited on a gentleman who wished to 
purchase a Quarterly. “These are times of sifting. 
Choose another name. They are all loyal.” 


8 


THE INNER SECRET 

“Loyal ?” exclaimed Beatrice quickly. “But Mr. 
Malcolm was one of the persons most loyal to Truth 
of any one I know. He even gave up his lucrative 
business when he caught a glimpse of the Christ- 
Truth. He was an importer of champagnes.” 

The gentleman beside her could not help hearing 
the conversation and smiled encouragingly at Bea¬ 
trice, but the sales woman said, “Well, all I have to 
say is, you would better copy off some of these names. 
Here is a pencil.” 

But Beatrice was on her way out, too surprised 
and confused to desire any further conversation. She 
had come for bread, but had not obtained it. Her 
one desire was to return to her room and think things 
out. She must calm her thought before her hus¬ 
band arrived for dinner, for he would not understand 
if she should recount her experiences of the after¬ 
noon. Henri was so direct and literal and analytical. 
She could not evade his questions. So with a 
pleasant “Good afternoon,” she stepped into the cor¬ 
ridor and pushed the elevator button. Her mind 
seemed whirling, and almost in a daze she passed out 
to the street, but her return walk down the avenue 
did not seem so pleasant and gay. The shoppers 
were not so happy, the windows did not look so at¬ 
tractive. They all took on the color of her mood. 
No Journal! No Monitor! No Mr. Malcolm. 


CHAPTER II. 

“The Grand Point A 

The hotel lobby seemed unusually crowded and 
Beatrice noticed a number of people entering a large 
room on her right. She joined them almost unthink¬ 
ingly and found herself listening to a radio concert 
—to a woman singing in Chicago. Radio and its 
achievements interested her mightily, especially since 
she had married, during her service abroad, a French- 
Swiss wireless expert who had rendered valuable 
service to the Allied Cause. He was a radio enthu¬ 
siast and she soon hurried to her room to tell him of 
the concert being given below, but he was not in yet. 
Her eyes fell on her Bible and Science and Health 
and these reminded her again of her visit to the read¬ 
ing room and of her disappointment in failing to find 
Mr. Malcolm. She had counted the days when she 
should be in touch with Christian Scientists again, 
and since Mr. Malcolm was the only one she knew 
in the city she was keenly disappointed not to see him. 

Her husband, Henri Rochelle, was a new convert 
to Mrs. Eddy’s teaching, a babe in the Truth, looking 
to her for guidance, and she longed for a refreshing 
talk with a more experienced Scientist. Her teacher 


9 


10 THE INNER SECRET 

with whom she had studied some twelve years ago 
when a girl of twenty, had passed away during Bea¬ 
trice’s absence abroad, and Mr. Malcolm seemed to 
her just the one she wished to see. The list of “loyal” 
practitioners were all strangers to her, and now that 
she had come back to her native land she ardently 
wanted to be welcomed, welcomed, welcomed by some 
one she knew. Tears of disappointment were welling 
up when Henri opened the door. 

“Have you found all your old friends,—and sweet¬ 
hearts, petite?” he greeted her. 

“Not one, Henri, and I’m so disappointed that I 
don’t feel scientific at all. Everything seems terribly 
queer today.” 

“You have been away so long that you may need to 
get yourself adjusted to America again. Is that it?” 

“Oh, no. I just couldn’t find a friend, a Scientist, 
whom I want to see very much. He must have 
moved.” 

“Didn’t you try the telephone?” 

“Why no, I never thought of it. I haven’t had 
a telephone at my elbow for so long in Asia Minor 
that I stupidly forgot to try that,” and she reached 
at once for the directory. Again her finger ran down 
a list of M’s. “Malcolm, John C. S., Rm. 8oi-x” in 
the very same building she had visited a few hours 


“THE GRAND POINT” 11 

ago. She quickly called the number and in a minute 
found herself listening to a well known voice. 

“Yes, this is Mr. John Malcolm.” How warm 
and loving his voice sounded! 

“And I am Mrs. Henri Rochelle. You used to 
know me well as Beatrice Rowe. I’ve been in Europe 
three years and I want to see you very much.” Her 
voice was very eager and Mr. Malcolm caught her 
intense desire for an immediate interview. 

“That is good news, Mrs. Rochelle. I remember 
you perfectly, and am so glad to hear your voice 
again. Can you come here this evening? I am very 
busy until eight-thirty, but after that the evening is 
yours.” 

“Thanks, I shall be delighted to come. Shall I 
bring my husband?” 

“By all means. Is he a Christian Scientist too?” 
inquired Mr. Malcolm. 

“Yes, that is, a—a believer in it.” 

“There are many such, Mrs. Rochelle,—just be¬ 
lievers.” But just here Henri laid a hand on his 
wife’s shoulder saying he had a previous engagement, 
so she replied, “Mr. Malcolm, my husband cannot 
come with me but I want him to have a talk with you 
tomorrow if possible. Our stay in the city will be 
brief as we must go to my home in Stratford where 


12 THE INNER SECRET 

my aunt is expecting us to visit her during our stay 

in the United States.” 

Secretly Beatrice was relieved that Henri was not 
to be present at her talk with Mr. Malcolm, for her 
mind was so confused that she wanted first of all to 
get her thought calmed down, her many questions 
raised by that afternoon’s experiences answered, and 
to feel that she was again on her feet. Henri had 
a direct way of asking her questions as he would ask 
them of an electrician, and she could not always give 
him satisfactory answers. So she felt it would be 
much better for Henri to accompany her on the fol¬ 
lowing day, when Mr. Malcolm’s talk would be more 
generally and better suited to Henri’s needs. She 
must not tell him of any discord in the Christian 
Science church. In fact, she could not yet believe 
there was any. It was unthinkable. 

“I am sorry that I had to plead a prior engagement, 
petite, but these gentlemen whom I called upon this 
afternoon have made arrangements to take me with 
them to Newark tonight. I was distressed at the 
thought of leaving you alone on our first evening in 
America, but this was an invitation and an oppor¬ 
tunity I could not afford to miss. I am amazed at 
the general way radio is being used in this country, 
according to these experts. Marconi may have dis- 


‘‘THE GRAND POINT” 13 

covered, or made practical, wireless communication 
by ether waves, but your countrymen are developing 
it and popularizing it in a way we Europeans haven’t 
dreamed of doing yet.” 

“Oh, yes. Uncle Sam’s boys are always on the 
job,” returned his wife with a twinkle. “But I am 
going to hear about something tonight more fascinat¬ 
ing and wonderful than your wireless.” 

“There is a sort of similarity about them,” replied 
Henri as he picked up Science and Health, and opened 
it at random. “Listen to this from page ten: ‘A 
correct view of Christian Science, and its adaptation 
to healing, includes vastly more than is at first seen. 
Works on metaphysics leave the grand point un¬ 
touched. They never crown the mental power as the 
Messiah nor do they carry the day against physical 
enemies’.” 

“Why, Henri, that doesn’t sound just right, some 
way. Is that the way it reads? It has an unfamiliar 
ring,” asserted Beatrice. 

“Look for yourself,” replied her husband handing 
her the book. Beatrice read it carefully, her brows 
puckered. Then her face cleared. “Oh now I see 
what the matter is. You picked up Mothers old 
edition. Let me see how it reads in my new one.” 

“What if it is an old edition,” inquired Henri. “It 


14 THE INNER SECRET 

is by Mrs. Eddy isn’t it? And published no longer 
ago than 1898. Didn’t she know what Christian Sci¬ 
ence was, even fifty years ago?” 

“Most certainly she did. She discovered it ‘through 
reason and revelation/ as she says, in 1866, and after 
nine years more of study and practice got out her 
first edition in 1875.” Beatrice had been searching 
for the same passage in her new book while talking, 
and now continued, “Here it is on page 116. ‘A 
correct view of Christian Science and of its adapta¬ 
tion to healing includes vastly more than is at first 
seen’.” 

“Then she admits the possibility of having an in¬ 
correct view of it,” interrupted Henri, “and that one 
must study until one gets her viewpoint.” 

“Yes, of course. Now I will go on. ‘Works on 
metaphysics leave the grand point untouched. They 
never crown the power of Mind as the Messiah, nor 
do they carry the day against physical enemies.’ 
There! I knew the way you read it didn’t sound 
right. You see it is ‘the power of Mind,’ Henri, 
Mind with a capital M. That makes all the 
difference.” 

“Which are we to believe?” inquired her husband 
calmly. “She calls it ‘THE GRAND POINT,’ and 
intimates that the incorrect view leaves this grand 


“THE GRAND POINT” 15 

point untouched. I can understand how ‘the mental 
power’ might be used to benefit the race, even as she 
says ‘to carry the day against physical enemies,—even 
the extinction of all belief in matter, evil, disease, and 
death.’ But when you talk about the Mind with a 
capital M I am ‘all at sea,’ as your saying is.” 

“Oh, Henry! It is God alone who does the healing 
and we always spell his name with a capital, of 
course.” 

“Well, what about ‘the mental power’ being the 
Messiah? There it is in cold print.” 

“I really don’t know, but I know we only reflect 
God. It is plain enough.” 

“Not to me, Beatrice. God is Mind, you say, do 
you not?” 

“Yes, that is one of His names.” 

“Oh! I thought it was His nature, not His name. 
I thought God is Mind. So Mind is God.” 

“Yes,” she replied somewhat confused. “But, 
Henri, He is His own divine Mind, not ours. We 
are just reflections. Can’t you see?” 

Henri shook his head. “No. Haven’t we any 
minds at all? I know I have.” 

“Well, of course, we think, but—we have no sep¬ 
arate minds from God,” asserted Beatrice stoutly. 

“That is just what I maintain. He is our mind, 


16 THE INNER SECRET 

and our mind is God—or will be when we know 

enough. Is that what you mean?” 

“No—o. That doesn’t sound exactly right either. 
Oh, dear! I want you to have a good talk with Mr. 
Malcolm tomorrow without fail. He will straighten 
you out.” 

“How about you, petite? I think you need a little 
straightening, yourself,” replied her husband with an 
amused smile. 

“I? Oh, no, indeed. I have studied with an au¬ 
thorized teacher, and I am satisfied, that is, quite so!” 

“How do you Americans use that word ‘quite’? 
Has it two meanings?” 

“Why, yes, I suppose so. I mean I understand, or 
am moderately, or almost, satisfied.” Beatrice was 
compelled to laugh out at the look on her husband’s 
face as he remarked, “That may suit you, but you 
know I am of a scientific turn of mind and have had 
that kind of training, so be patient with me. Now, 
to me, radio is much simpler to comprehend than your 
explanation of Christian Science.” 

“Well, but Henri, I know the fault is all mine. 
You can get it all from Science and Health. That 
is the text-book.” 

“Yes, I know. But I hope your Mr. Malcolm 
can really explain the text-book to me. I cannot see 


“THE GRAND POINT” 17 

it! I don’t just want to believe it. I must understand 
it. I really think, Beatrice, you only believe it.” 

“Oh, I do believe it with all my heart. You must 
swallow it, Henri. That is the way I did.” 

“What if I studied electricity that way, when I 
didn’t understand it?” replied Henri, pacing the floor. 
“If I only believed in radio I couldn’t even pretend 
to demonstrate it. You can’t prove a belief. You 
even told me the other day you didn’t overcome sea¬ 
sickness, that some way you didn’t seem to be able to 
demonstrate Christian Science as well as you did ten 
years ago. I should be pretty well discouraged if I 
had to admit that about radio ten years hence.” 

“Henri!” she cried in alarm. “You aren’t going 
back on Science, are you?” 

“Never! One of my main reasons for absenting 
myself so long from my own country, is to learn here 
in the land of its birth whether Christian Science 
is science or not. I believe it is,—but I can’t prove it 
by you, Beatrice. Truth, science, is capable of proof, 
and when you tell me God is mind, His own mind, 
but we are not mind, yet we think; that Mind is God, 
yet not our mind, still there is but one mind, I am 
all at sea. Then where do mortal mind, and im¬ 
mortal Mind and the human mind and the mind of 
animals come in?” 


18 THE INNER SECRET 

“Henri, I wish you would wait and not ask me any 
more questions till I have seen Mr. Malcolm. I am 
afraid you are wandering into the mazes of mortal 
mind by asking all these questions.” 

“Mrs. Eddy says there just isn’t any such thing, in 
reality.” 

“But there does seem to be,” wailed Beatrice. “ I 
feel now as if that is what I am. And you, you are 
just a big question mark!” 

“I am, exactly that. And now let’s go down stairs 
and I will question you still further. What do you 
want for dinner?” 


CHAPTER III. 

Capital “M.” 

A few hours later as Henri left his wife at the 
elevator in Mr. Malcolm’s building and hurried on, 
she suddenly recalled the words of the reading room 
attendant: “Mr. Malcolm is not a Christian Science 
practitioner.” As the elevator began to glide swiftly 
upward her eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of the 
building’s wall directory and standing out from the 
other names as though they were letters of flame she 
read: “John Malcolm, C. S. Room 8oi-x.” It must 
have been there in the afternoon when she scanned it 
to find what floor the reading room was on. “Truly, 
having eyes we see not,” she thought. Then again 
came over her a slight doubt in regard to Mr. Mal¬ 
colm. What did that lady mean by saying he was not 
a loyal practitioner? Well, she would soon find out. 
But could she? Was her understanding sufficient to 
discern disloyal traits, when even Henri could floor 
her in an argument on the subject? Her joy was 
dimmed, and a little frown lingered as she stepped 
out at the eighth floor and read the superscription 
on Mr. Malcolm’s door. Evidently he still considered 
himself a Christian Scientist. 


19 


20 THE INNER SECRET 

Mr. Malcolm’s door opened and a gentleman came 
out, and as he passed Beatrice he gave her a slight 
bow and a smile of recognition. It was the man who 
bought the Quarterly while she was talking with the 
reading room attendant. So he knew Mr. Malcolm 
too! 

She was greeted most cordially by her old friend 
and as she took a seat he looked at her keenly and 
asked, “What are you thinking to cause that per¬ 
plexed frown?” She did not answer at once, instead, 
looked at the books on his desk. Yes, these surely 
were Mrs. Eddy’s books, but there were no Journals 
nor Sentinels. She looked up at him, then broke into 
a laugh as she caught his expression. “You feel 
better, now, don’t you?” he asked, looking signif¬ 
icantly at the books. “You see I am still studying 
those, in spite of what they told you.” 

“Why, how in the world did you know I had been 
in the reading room inquiring for you?” 

He laughed again, but his laugh was full of love, 
without any sharp edge to it. “So many others have 
done so and have been told that I am not a Christian 
Scientist any more, that when they finally find me, 
their puzzled, wondering expression has been exactly 
like yours. I recognized it at once.” 

“Yes, I asked for you, also for a Journal. That 


CAPITAL “M 


21 


gentleman who left your office as I entered was there 
too and bought a Quarterly. I see they sell those 
still.” Mr. Malcolm gave a little chuckle and ex¬ 
claimed, “So you were the good missionary!” 

“Missionary?” queried Beatrice in surprise. 

“Yes. That gentleman heard some of your con¬ 
versation about me while getting his Quarterly at the 
desk, and became interested at once. I think you 
said I had been an importer of wines and champagnes, 
but had given it up for the Christian Science practice. 
He tells me it made his blood rise hotly to hear me 
branded disloyal, so he came at once to my office, 
asked for an interview which I couldn’t grant him 
till just now—I was too busy at the moment—and 
now he is greatly interested in what I had to tell him 
and has asked me to treat his wife. And so they 
come, hungry and thirsty.” 

“I am very glad something good came out of my 
visit to the reading room. I noticed that gentleman 
smiled at me when I was defending you.’ 

“Yes, he too was looking for a practitioner, and 
being an independent thinker liked what you said 
about me, in spite of my being blacklisted. Mr. Fox, 
that is his name, is also staying at your hotel with 
his wife.” 

“How splendid! I shall look them up first thing 
in the morning.” 


22 


THE INNER SECRET 

“Yes, do,” returned Mr. Malcolm warmly. “They 
have no friends in the city. They are from Cali¬ 
fornia and are on their way to Boston to look into 
things there. You may have heard of the upheaval 
at the headquarters of the Mother Church.” 

“Very little, next to nothing,” replied Beatrice, 
settling back comfortably in her chair. “Tell me all 
about it/ 

“I will just say there has been appalling discord 
and it has spread over the entire field. In conse¬ 
quence of this, people are inquiring as never before, 
‘What IS truth?’ ‘What and where is God?’ or 
‘Why can I not make as good demonstrations as I 
could five, ten, twenty years ago?’ ‘What is author¬ 
ized literature, what is authority, is it vested in per¬ 
son or principle, in an organization with its Boards 
or is it vested in Truth, herself?’ ” 

“Why, those things are just the things I want to 
ask. My husband believes there is much in Christian 
Science, but he unsettles me sometimes with his 
questions.” 

Mr. Malcolm smiled gently and asked, “What is 
your husband’s business or profession, may I ask? 
I mean what sort of training has he had?” 

“He is an electrical engineer, but has specialized 
in wireless and radio.” 


CAPITAL “M” 23 

“Good! A training of that sort is a great help. 
He has a scientific turn of mind, I take it. He wants 
to be an understander of Christian Science and not 
a mere believer. ,, And Mr. Malcolm nodded his head 
approvingly. 

“Why, that is just what he says. He says I am 
a believer,” laughed Beatrice. 

“That is very probable. I want to meet that hus¬ 
band of yours, Mrs. Rochelle. Bring him in tomor¬ 
row at two if convenient and I will reserve an hour 
for him—and you.” 

“Thanks, you would better include me. Henri 
says I need straightening out as well as he. We will 
surely come. But those questions—Won’t you tell 
me first about the trouble at Boston, and then answer 
the others one by one?” 

He smilingly shook his head. “No, I am not going 
to use up this hour, this golden opportunity to learn 
more of Truth, by relating and recounting that dis¬ 
cord. It doesn’t concern me now, and error is best 
forgotten. And the way to forget it is not to talk 
about it. I will just say for your enlightenment that 
it concerned various ways of interpreting and enforc¬ 
ing the by-laws in the church manual, which Mrs. 
Eddy plainly stated in its preface are ‘not arbitrary 
opinions nor dictatorial demands, such as one person 


24 THE INNER SECRET 

might impose upon another.They spring from 

necessity, the logic of events.’ As for the questions 
—can you not answer them satisfactorily to 
yourself?” 

“No, frankly I cannot. I read my lesson, say the 
Lord’s prayer, and the Scientific Statement of Being, 
—but I don’t seem to grow much,—if any.” 

“Well, well. What a pity! for growth is a law of 
Nature. But you told me a short time ago that you 
were a believer. That is where the whole trouble lies. 
We don’t grow in belief. We may change our beliefs. 
But we can only grow in understanding. 'With all 
thy getting, get understanding,’ said the wise man.” 

“That is what I want. I felt the need of something 
more where I have been, in Armenia and Vienna. 
How I longed to multiply the loaves and fishes as 
Jesus did, so as to feed the multitudes. But my 
faith was not equal to anything of the sort. But tell 
me of yourself. Why did the woman say you are 
not a loyal practitioner?” 

“I will tell you. As to what I am,—I am a seeker 
after God, and as God is light I am a seeker after 
light, and as God is truth I am a seeker after truth, 
and as God is life I am a seeker after life, and as He 
is love I am a seeker after love, and a seeker after 
harmony, for you know Mrs. Eddy states that 'God 



CAPITAL “M” 25 

is Harmony’s selfhood.’ (Unity of Good.) To me 
the best definition of God is wisdom, so above all I 
am a seeker after wisdom, after understanding, after 
scientific certainty. In that search, I look into the 
minds of other individuals, reflected in their writings. 
As you know, I found the best storehouse of wisdom 
—aside from the Scriptures,—in Mrs. Eddy’s writ¬ 
ings, but, as the Holy Scriptures are not the work of 
one author, but are a compilation of the writings of 
many people, so I feel that all of wisdom is not neces¬ 
sarily confined to any one writer in this age, nor can 
it be. Wisdom and Truth are God, the God-con¬ 
sciousness, or God-state of consciousness, and they 
cannot be limited to any one individual, now or ever. 
'God (Wisdom, Truth) is no respecter of persons.’ 
Again, ‘If any man lack wisdom let him ask of God, 
who giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not, 
and it shall be given him.’ Truth doesn’t arbitrarily 
choose any personality as its mouthpiece. As one of 
the best known Christian Science lecturers used to say, 
‘Adam could have had a telephone if he had known 
enough.’ Alexander Graham Bell did know enough, 
but the scientific thinkers of today are forging ahead 
and are telephoning without wires—a step beyond. 
Did all the wisdom in regard to telephony begin and 
end in Mr. Bell? Can the unfoldment of wisdom be 


26 THE INNER SECRET 

stopped? Is it limited by anyone or anything, Mrs. 

Rochelle?” 

“No—o,” she said slowly, then “but, Mr. Malcolm, 
—all truth and wisdom are contained in our text¬ 
book, Science and Health, by Mrs. Eddy.” 

“Yet Mrs. Eddy herself plainly says on page 495 
of that very book, ‘All of truth is not understood.' 
Also doesn’t she more than hint at further revela¬ 
tions and unfoldment of wisdom, of omniscence, 
when in the letter from Miscellaneous Writings which 
forms a preface to the church manual, she speaks of 
‘absolute doctrines destined for future generations?’ 
Mrs. Eddy never pretended to limit truth to her books 
only, nor pretended to be infallible or omniscent. She 
frequently changed the by-laws to suit the times, or as 
occasion demanded. She calls herself ‘a willing dis¬ 
ciple at the heavenly gate, waiting for the Mind of 
Christ,’ ‘though rejoicing in some progress.’ Your 
husband reads other works on wireless than Signor 
Marconi’s, doesn’t he?” he inquired. 

“Naturally. He keeps abreast of the times. He 
is in Newark right now with some radio experts.” 

“What would he think of a school or other organi¬ 
zation which used and sold Marconi’s books and pos¬ 
itively forbade him to read or study the books of any 
of those Newark experts?” asked Mr. Malcolm. 


CAPITAL “M” 27 

“He wouldn’t pay any attention to such a pro¬ 
hibition. No one man has such a corner on radio 
science as that,” Beatrice answered quickly. 

“Exactly so. We cannot corner science, or wis¬ 
dom, or truth, or love, Mrs. Rochelle, it is because 
I saw that fact clearly and acted upon it that you were 
told I am not a Christian Science practitioner.” 

“Oh, I see. You mean that although the Journal 
and Sentinel are not called authorized literature any 
more, that you continue to read them.” 

“No. I went farther afield than that. I was 
asked by a patient, whom I had not healed but who 
returned later to tell me of his healing, to read a story 
embodying the teachings of Christian Science. It 
was written by a man having a wonderful insight into 
true metaphysics, and I continued to read and study 
his other books.” 

“But what of that? Mrs. Eddy herself warmly 
praised in the Sentinel the fiction of two other Chris¬ 
tian Science authors within my remembrance. You 
know, Mr. Malcolm, I have been fin Science’ as the 
saying is, since I was thirteen years old and remember 
many things.” 

“I am glad you do. But this writer I refer to, 
Mr. William W. Walter, was not so ‘authorized.’ In 
fact most of his books have come out since Mrs. Eddy 


28 THE INNER SECRET 

passed on. It was a student of his who healed my 
ex-patient. So I continued to search and to analyze 
his writings, and I can honestly say that now I un¬ 
derstand Christian Science to a degree that I never 
thought possible before. Where I had believed, now 
I understand.” 

Beatrice was leaning forward in her chair, eagerly 
attentive. “Mrs. Rochelle, tell me your understanding 
of God, for Science and Health says on page 203 ‘if 
God were understood instead of being merely be¬ 
lieved, this understanding would establish health’.” 

Beatrice puckered her brows an instant, then began 
glibly, “God is divine, supreme, infinite, incorporeal 
Mind, Life, Truth, Love.” 

Mr. Malcolm smiled broadly. “Pardon me a 
moment. I did not ask for a definition you had 
memorized, but for your idea of God.” 

“Well, I will try to put it in my own words. God 
is a very present help in trouble, is everywhere. He 
fills all space.” Here she paused. 

“Now that you have located Him, just tell me your 
idea of what He is.” 

“Oh, He is divine Love, all powerful Love.” 

“Is that all?” persisted Mr. Malcolm gently. 

“No, of course not. He is our Father-Mother, 
our real dwelling-place. He fills the earth and the 


CAPITAL “M” 29 

sky. Tf I make my bed in hell,’ you know the rest.” 

“Of what does He consist, Mrs. Rochelle? What 
is His very nature?” 

“That reminds me of a talk I had with my husband 
tonight. He said if God is mind then mind is God, 
but I told him ‘no.’ That He is His own perfect 
Mind, divine, apart from us,—that is,—” floundered 
Beatrice, “we are just reflections or reflectors of Him. 
We can’t say because God is Mind, that all mind is 
God.” 

“Take this copy of the present edition of Science 
and Health and read the answer to the question ‘What 
is Mind?’ in Recapitulation,” said Mr. Malcolm in 
reply. 

Beatrice turned to page 469 and read aloud: 
“‘Question.—What is Mind? Answer.—Mind is 
God’.” She looked up in astonishment. “But,” she 
objected doggedly, “Mind is spelled with a capital.” 

“Quite so. And I will explain that to you later. 
Did you ever think that when that sentence is read 
in church the reader never stops to explain to the 
audience, many of whom perhaps have never seen the 
printed page and are hearing it for the first time, he 
never says in an aside, ‘This word Mind is spelled 
with a capital’?” 

“No, of course not. He just reads right along as 
it is written.” 


30 


THE INNER SECRET 

“Exactly. So the hearers naturally conclude it 
means what it says, ‘Mind is God/ Please continue 
reading some more of the answer to the question 
‘What is Mind?’ ” 

“ ‘Mind is God. The exterminator of error is the 
great truth that God, good, is the only Mind, and that 
the supposititious opposite of infinite Mind—called 
devil or evil—is not Mind, is not Truth, but error, 
without intelligence or reality. There can be but one 
Mind, because there is but one God; and if mortals 
claimed no other Mind and accepted no other, sin 
would be unknown. We can have but one Mind, if 
that one is infinite’.” 

As Beatrice finished reading she looked up saying, 
“I am astonished. I have memorized that page, but 
I never saw it that way before. Why, it plainly says 
this Mind is the only one there is. Can my mind be 
God?” 

“ ‘If mortals claimed no other Mind and accepted 
no other’,” quoted Mr. Malcolm softly. 

“But,” objected Beatrice incredulously, “She does 
use a capital M. I cannot get around that.” 

“What if she does? Water is water, whether 
spelled with capitals or small letters, with script or 
italics. So Mind is Mind. Farther down the same 
page you will find this: ‘This belief that there is more 


CAPITAL “M” 31 

than one mind is as pernicious to divine theology as 
are ancient mythology and pagan idolatry.’ Pretty 
strong language, that! Mrs. Rochelle. No, decidedly 
no. There is only one Mind, and if mortals, mortals, 
claimed ‘no other Mind and accepted no other!’ You 
see we have read these familiar statements over glibly 
and taken the popular interpretation, which perhaps 
someone else has given us, without independent think¬ 
ing and research ourselves. In regard to the capitals: 
they have perplexed many, and I have made an ex¬ 
haustive study as to her probable motives, but until 
you have delved a little further into this new inter¬ 
pretation of her writings you might not agree with 
me, so I am going to wait before explaining that 
until you have gained a slight understanding at least, 
of Mr. Walter’s viewpoint, that is, if you care to 
pursue the subject, Mrs. Rochelle.” 

“Indeed, I do. You have opened up that definition 
of Mind to me already and I like it, and then—” she 
hesitated a minute. “To be frank with you, I have 
been troubled about my husband. He has not been 
well since he was gassed in the war, and I have spent 
hours treating him and he has read and read, but he 
says he can’t seem to understand. I know he would 
want me to continue this study with you, and he is 
eager to come to see you tomorrow.” 


32 


THE INNER SECRET 

“Well, then suppose you take home with you this 
little pack of booklets by Mr. Walter. They are 
called the Plain Talk Series. If you like them you 
may purchase them, otherwise return them tomorrow 
when you call. I would suggest one thing,—before 
you come spend the entire morning studying them. 
I want you to have read them before I talk with 
you again. You will notice he refers to Mrs. Eddy’s 
earlier writings. They will interest you.” 

“They do now. I have an edition of our text¬ 
book published in 1898 and Henri and I noticed one 
difference in them. And now that I think of it, it 
concerned this very subject of Mind with a capital 
M,” and then she related the conversation she had 
had with Henri concerning “the grand point” which 
was “the mental power as the Messiah.” 

“And Messiah, according to Smith’s Bible diction¬ 
ary,” said Mr. Malcolm much interested, “means the 
annointed one. It sometimes referred to the Jewish 
priests who were annointed with the holy oils, and 
again it refers to Jesus, the one sent or annointed. 
Oil, Mrs. Eddy defines as spiritual qualities, so the 
mental power or Messiah means to us ‘the mental 
power’ when imbued with ‘consecration, charity, gen¬ 
tleness, prayer, heavenly inspiration,’ as she tells in 
the Glossary under the definition of oil.” 


CAPITAL “M 


33 


A great light seemed dawning to Beatrice as she 
exclaimed reverently, “Can it be that that is the 
meaning of the capital M ? It is used when our mind 
is imbued with such qualities as you have just named, 
when it is used for good, when it is—it is—really 
God!” 

A radiant smile swept over Mr. Malcolm’s face as 
he answered quickly, “You have gotten the idea 
splendidly, and you saw it for yourself. I did not 
have to tell you in so many words,” 

“It is indeed a ‘grand point’!” assented Beatrice. 
“Can you tell me a little more, and then I must go.” 

“I will read you a few words our leader wrote in 
1910 but which were reprinted in a September, 1917 
Sentinel. It is from an article called ‘Principle and 
Practice.’ It begins: ‘This message is of vital im¬ 
portance to every Christian Scientist today. The na¬ 
ture and position of mortal mind are the opposite of 
immortal mind. The so-called mortal mind is belief 
and not understanding. Christian Science requires 
understanding instead of belief;—it is based on a 
fixed, eternal and divine Principle, wholly apart from 
mortal conjecture; and it must be understood, other¬ 
wise it cannot be correctly accepted and demon¬ 
strated.’ Then she goes on showing the vast differ¬ 
ence between a faith-cure sort of Science and real 


34 THE INNER SECRET 

understanding of it, and she closes the article by 
saying, ‘Christian Science is not a faith-cure, and 
unless human faith be distinguished from scientific 
healing, Christian Science will again be lost from the 
practice of religion as it was soon after the period 
of our great Master’s scientific teaching and practice. 
Preaching without practice of the divine Principle 
of man’s being has not in 1900 years resulted in 
demonstrating this Principle. Preaching without the 
truthful and consistent practice of your statements 
will desroy the success of Christian Science’.” 

“Splendid! I noticed she said ‘the nature and po¬ 
sition of mortal mind are the opposite of immortal 
mind.’ What does that mean?” 

“One is belief, conjecture, which are of course, 
mortal, changeable; while the other is understanding, 
demonstration. Their natures and positions are op¬ 
posites, aren’t they? The God-Mind is really the 
God-state of mind or the mind that was in Christ 
Jesus. If you wish any other definition look up the 
one given under ‘Mind’ in the Glossary, when you get 
to your hotel. And I shall look for you both at two 
tomorrow.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

Improving One's Time. 

Henri reached the hotel very late that night but his 
wife was up and was poring over a little booklet with 
intense eagerness. She looked up happily and said, 
“Good news, Henri. Mr. Malcolm can certainly set 
us straight on all points. I know all about Mind now, 
either with a capital or without." 

“Well, well! You are making rapid progress. I 
fear it will take me a century or two to learn all 
about mind. How did you do it in such a short time? 
Mr. Malcolm must be a wizard." 

“You know I talk extravagantly sometimes, Henri, 
but I mean I have found out what was troubling us 
this afternoon. It was a matter of capitals. Mr. 
Malcolm says water is water and mind is mind how¬ 
ever spelled. Isn’t that sensible? And he has loaned 
us these booklets which we must read before we go to 
see him at two o’clock tomorrow." 

“It must be two o’clock today, petite, for it is now 
one a. m." 

“Really? One o’clock? I had no idea. I have 
been reading ever since I came in at ten fifteen and 
I am not through with the first booklet yet. It is so 


35 


36 THE INNER SECRET 

interesting. I have stopped and compared its teach¬ 
ing with the Bible and Science and Health.” 

“How many booklets did he give you?” inquired 
her husband amused. 

“Ten. And only until two o’clock to read them!” 

“Well, if we omit breakfast and lunch, we may 
finish them in time, but I doubt it, at your rate of 
speed. Let me take one and begin.” 

“I am reading the first one on ‘Mental Practice,’ 
and you can take the second called ‘Thinking’.” 

“A very good title, indeed. I am in haste to be¬ 
gin, for I can see already that you have gained some¬ 
thing from your reading or your visit. You don’t 
seem so uncertain and so clouded.” 

Their tiny traveling clock chimed two before the 
booklets were laid aside for slumber, and by eight 
they were deep in the study again, having their break¬ 
fast served in their room so they might read and 
talk uninterruptedly. 

“That ‘Thinking’ is a wonderfully clear booklet, 
Beatrice. I must by all means buy the whole set. It 
is just what I have been looking for—the truth about 
thinking phrased in plain words,” said Henri as he 
sipped his coffee. 

“The last paragraph of ‘Mental Practice’ just fits 
me, as if Mr. Walter knew me well. Listen: ‘If the 


IMPROVING ONE’S TIME 37 

student finds that the mental house (understanding) 
which he has been building, comes tumbling about his 
ears, he can blame no one but himself for he builded 
this mental house upon the changing sands of human 
beliefs, which he miscalled understanding. Awake 
thou that sleepeth and know thyself.’ Why, Henri, 
I feel as if I were starting the study all over again.” 

“Well, we begin the study of it together, then,” 
replied her husband. 

“I asked Mr. Malcolm about mortal mind and all 
that and he read to me an extract from Mrs. Eddy’s 
First Edition of Science and Health,” said Beatrice. 
“I committed it to memory. It is this: ‘All the sick¬ 
ness, sin, and death on earth are caused by mind, even 
our own beliefs. Matter is not cause and when you 
destroy the belief that it is, its power over you flees. 
You possess your own body, and make it harmonious 
and immortal, or discordant and mortal.’ Isn’t that 
splendid and clear, Henri? You know Mrs. Eddy 
says this first edition contains the ‘complete statement’ 
of Christian Science, and calls it ‘The Precious Vol¬ 
ume.’ You see, as she plainly shows, we make the 
wrong bodily conditions through mind, through 
wrong, sickly thinking, and we can change these con¬ 
ditions to healthy ones through mind used the right 
way, through persistent thinking in accord with the 


38 THE INNER SECRET 

wonderful facts of life, the facts which will endure 
throughout all ages. Just like the facts about any¬ 
thing. Only the facts endure. Oh, it is opening up 
so splendidly to me.” 

“Then you really see that there aren’t,—in these 
facts,—many kinds of mind, mortal and immortal, 
human and divine, etc. That had puzzled me in your 
talks. Of course I understand that Mrs. Eddy had 
to clothe her ideas in terms the ordinary layman could 
understand, and yet, was I dull? For I didn’t get 
her meaning. Humanity has a more or less fixed 
idea of what it conceives God to be, a huge super¬ 
man, who created the universe and then left us to find 
out its laws, through experimentation. This man-like 
God has been prayed to, implored and besought with 
agony, yet how few, how very few persons have felt 
they had any answers, and finally they ceased to ex¬ 
pect any. They tried everything in a vain search for 
help and relief, from tar-water to violet-rays, and 
from mud baths to running half nude in the snow. 
How many suicides we read of who were driven to it 
by continued suffering, mental and physical! This 
super-man, this God who did not answer their calls, 
failed them times without number. Think what you 
witnessed in Armenia, and what I saw when the Ger¬ 
man soldiers violated Belgium. Didn’t those poor 


IMPROVING ONE’S TIME 39 

people cry out to God in all earnestness? Beatrice, 
there must be a different solution to these questions 
than any so far found. Jesus called God 'My Father 
and Your Father.’ No human father would seem so 
deaf.” 

“Henri, I read today Mrs. Eddy’s definition of 
'Father’ in my copy of Science and Health, page 586 . 
It reads: 'Eternal Life; the one Mind; the divine 
Principle, commonly called God.’ When we learn 
that this Mind is our Mind, our Life, indestructible 
and eternal, our Principle of being, or the Principle 
of our being, it does simplify matters wonderfully, 
doesn’t it? Not afar off, separate and absent, nor 
present yet unresponsive to our calls. But our very 
own Life itself. I cannot grasp it very well, yet. 
Our Mind also.” They were both silent a few min¬ 
utes each thinking deeply, then Henri spoke slowly, 
a new idea groping for expression. 

“Then we don’t pray to, or beseech Mind. We 
must instead use it. Isn’t that it? We use the air 
when we breathe, to cleanse our systems of certain 
poisons and to bring in the good pure oxygen. We 
use water for drinking and for cleansing purposes. 
We use vegetables and fruits for food. We use 
mathematics in our business. We use the wind to 
sail our boats. And now we are to use Mind to 


40 THE INNER SECRET 

cleanse us from sin, sickness and death, and to re¬ 
vivify and gladden our lives and hearts. No, be¬ 
seeching won’t do it. That has been tested and tried 
for thousands of years. Moses used Mind when he 
struck the rock and waters gushed forth, when he— 
hand me that Bible, Beatrice, let me see just what 
he did do at the Jordan. Hm, Genesis, Exodus. 
Here it is in the fourteenth chapter. ‘And the Lord 
said unto Moses, Wherefore criest thou unto me? 
speak unto the children of Israel, that they go for¬ 
ward; But lift thou up thy rod, and stretch thine hand 
over the sea, and divide it; and the children of Israel 
shall go on dry ground through the midst of the sea. 
* * * * And Moses stretched out his hand over the 
sea; and the Lord caused the sea to go back * * * * 
and the children of Israel went into the midst of the 
sea upon dry ground: and the waters were a wall 
unto them on their right hand, and on their left.’ The 
Lord means Mind, Principle, of course, the infinite 
Intelligence ‘commonly called God\” 

“Henri, you are wonderful. I never thought of 
that. Of course Moses used or utilized the great 
power which Jesus said is given unto us. And that 
is the trouble with humanity all down the ages, they 
have begged instead of used! Mrs. Eddy speaks in 
Retrospection and Introspection of this infinite power, 


IMPROVING ONE’S TIME 41 

or 'God as ever-present Truth and Love, to be util¬ 
ized in healing the sick’ and so on. I am in such a 
hurry to have you see Mr. Malcolm and hear his ex¬ 
planations ! We must now go back to our booklets or 
we shall not finish them in time.” 

“I wish,” said Henri, "that some one would write 
this all out in a plain, I might say, almost popular 
way, so that the average perplexed, suffering person 
would find and read it. I wonder if anyone has!” 

"So you did not look up Mr. and Mrs. Fox,” in¬ 
quired Mr. Malcolm as soon as Beatrice had intro¬ 
duced her husband a few hours later and they were 
seated in his office. 

A blank look came over Beatrice’s face as she ex¬ 
claimed, "I forgot all about them! How dreadful! 
But, Mr. Malcolm I have been so absorbed in those 
booklets that I have neglected everything else. How 
did you know I hadn’t seen them?” 

"They have just been here a few minutes ago, and 
they left word with me that their suite is number 555 
and begged your company to dinner at seven. They 
will dine in their private room so we can talk.” 

"We? Are you coming too, Mr. Malcolm? Oh, 
how wonderful everything is today. I am so happy!” 

The two gentlemen smiled into her lovely upturned 
face and Mr. Malcolm remarked, "The little frown 


42 THE INNER SECRET 

has disappeared, Mrs. Rochelle, with which you 
greeted me yesterday. The real truth is a great beau- 
tifier. Yes, I am going to dine with you also. Mrs. 
Fox greatly needs help and she says they sat up till 
twelve o’clock last night reading the Plain Talk book¬ 
lets of Mr. Walter’s.” Henri laughed and said, 
“They did well, but we retired at two, after studying 
the same thing. Really, Mr. Malcolm, I am delighted 
with what I have read. I carefully read five of the 
booklets, wanting to get a general idea of what the 
author had to say before seeing you. But of course, 
I have by no means exhausted them. The explana¬ 
tion of Mind is very satisfactory. I was unable to 
discern Mrs. Eddy’s meaning always in regard to 
God and Mind and divine Mind and the human mind, 
to say nothing of mortal mind so-called.” 

“It has been vague to many, I find, and the fact 
that Mr. Walter has cleared the subject up for such a 
vast number of people, is proof that the time had 
come for such an explanation to be given. Mrs. 
Eddy’s early writings were simpler and more direct, 
but after some few years she began to change the 
wording and the capitalization here and there, to such 
an extent that it amounted to an almost complete 
veiling of the great truths, the ‘grand point’ contained 
in her discovery. What do you want to discuss or 
ask about first, my good friends?” 


IMPROVING ONE’S TIME 43 

“Let me ask just one thing, Mr. Malcolm,” put 
in Beatrice at once. “I am troubled that I have to 
give up the idea of a Master Mind outside of me Who 
runs things generally, Who answers my prayers and 
to Whom I can turn for help and strength and guid¬ 
ance. That bothers me persistently.” 

“I am glad you have spoken of that, Mrs. Ro¬ 
chelle. We will take that up first, then. You know 
that the idea of God has changed and progressed 
throughout the ages. For century upon century He 
was looked upon only as ‘the God of Abraham, Isaac 
and Jacob/ or ‘the God of Israel.’ He was pictured 
as a war-like super-King, loving his friends and hat¬ 
ing his enemies. He wiped out whole nations at the 
prayers and entreaties of his ‘chosen people,’ the Is¬ 
raelites. He required sacrifices of gentle animals (or 
so He was pictured in the Old Testament). This 
went on until the time of Jesus who broadened and 
corrected the concept of God as much as the times 
would allow. See John 16 : 12 , 13 . ‘I have yet many 
things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now. 
Howbeit, when he, the Spirit of truth is come, he will 
guide you into all truth.’ Yet, in the centuries gone 
Abraham, the Friend of God, had called Him The 
Almighty, and the very name Jehovah in its inner 
meaning signifies ‘The Self-Existent. So we find 


44 THE INNER SECRET 

the great truth hinted at even in His earliest names.” 

Paul, in turn, boldly preached to the Gentiles, 
which was a rank innovation. So it has gone on, bit 
by bit, until now we are discarding altogether a man¬ 
like God and are finding Him to be Mind, Spirit, the 
Life of all, the mental or primal element, or Prin¬ 
ciple, ‘by whom all things consist.’ You say you can’t 
give up the idea of a Master Mind. In a sense you 
don’t have to. Our present concept of Mind is very 
feeble, and this Master mind exists as the great Re¬ 
ality. It is, rather, a Master-state of mind to which 
we are all striving to attain. Not something outside 
of us, but of which we are a particle. All knowledge, 
all understanding, are m-folded in this mind, and 
we, as we grow, un-io\d these qualities or abilities 
which we already possess. God or mind is cause. 
Body or manifestation is effect. Thought is mind in 
action, producing effects. So if we get busy with our 
right thinking we can bring into expression any good 
thing.” 

“How simple it seems,” exclaimed Beatrice, “as 
you explain it. I only wish I had known of this years 
ago.” 

“Yes, this clear plain teaching seems to be meeting 
the needs of multitudes in this country, and no doubt 
will soon spread to your land, Mr. Rochelle,” replied 


IMPROVING ONE’S TIME 45 

Mr. Malcolm earnestly wishing to draw out this hon¬ 
est, scientific thinker who had not been able to 
swallow any science through mere belief. 

“I have read all the German philosophers,” said 
Henri, “most of the French and a few of the Russian 
and Scandinavian, but I had never found anything 
that came anywhere near satisfying me until I studied 
Mrs. Eddy’s writings. Even there I felt that I had not 
gotten hold of her inner meaning. I really preferred 
her smaller books, Unity of Good, and Miscellaneous 
Writings, and even The Peoples Idea of God to Sci¬ 
ence and Health.” 

“Yes, and I was so shocked, when he told me that,” 
said his wife. 

“He was honest, that is all,” returned Mr. Malcolm. 
“Those books you mentioned stand today more 
nearly, if not quite, as she wrote them at first, while 
Science and Health has been revised again and 
again. The very matter of capitals has confused the 
reader. It was a thick veil, but Mr. Walter in his 
own studies of her books and other author’s writings 
came to a startling conclusion, but felt he must be 
wrong. Yet the idea persisted, and he resolved to 
trace back the various editions of Science and Health, 
till he came to the first. He was well rewarded, for 
there in unmistakable, simple language, he found her 


46 THE INNER SECRET 

great discovery stated in its simplicity. Listen to this 
from the first edition, page n: ‘We learn from sci¬ 
ence that mind is universal, the first and only cause 
of all that really is/ Not a capital in it! Also this, 
‘That we are Spirit and Spirit is God is undeniably 
true,’ from page 155 , and on page 77 we find, ‘The 
final understanding that we are Spirit must come, 
and we might as well improve our time in solving the 
so-called mysteries of today on this principle.’ That 
is what I am doing, improving my time by endeavor¬ 
ing to solve the mysteries of TODAY on this prin¬ 
ciple. I want the best helps and the quickest, surest 
way possible.” 

“Oh, I do, too,” said Beatrice eagerly, “But—” 

“Get all the buts overboard, bring them out in 
sight, and we can dispose of them I am sure,” laughed 
Mr. Malcolm. 

“I am not at all clear on the point of ‘reflection’ 
and ‘idea’ we read so much about. I have always 
been taught that I, my consciousness, my individ¬ 
uality, was an image, and likeness, a reflection or an 
idea.” 

“As you go on studying these booklets that will 
be made very plain to you. An image is an outline, 
a form, is it not? a likeness of something else. Mrs. 
Eddy quotes on page 115 of the current edition of the 


IMPROVING ONE’S TIME 47 

text-book Webster’s definition of idea, ‘An image in 
mind; the immediate object of understanding.’ Your 
consciousness or mentality is not an image is it? It 
is not an idea. It has ideas, images. No, the image 
and likeness refers to your thoughts manifest, or ex¬ 
pressed. Your body and your home, perhaps, are your 
likeness, the reflection of your thought-conclusions. 
An image never thinks, eats, runs or works. An image 
cannot move. So your body is the image, it doesn’t 
even live when the mind says it has died. In this 
same first edition Mrs. Eddy wrote on page 222 , ‘The 
compound idea named man is unintelligent; it is a life¬ 
less image and reflection of Principle, or Soul.’ Does 
that sound as if it referred to you, yourself, or to your 
body? Which is lifeless and unintelligent? Of course 
she is talking about the body, named man.” 

“But,” objected Beatrice, “she also says ‘Man is not 
matter; he is not made up of brain, blood, bones, and 
other material elements. The Scriptures inform us 
that man is made in the image and likeness of God. 
Matter is not that likeness.’ That is her answer in 
‘Recapitulation to the question “What is man?” 

“Very true. There is no matter. It just isn’t mat¬ 
ter. It is mind in another form, or state. There are 
in reality no material elements. The one element is 
Mind, or mentality, and Webster defines element as 


48 THE INNER SECRET 

‘One of the simplest parts or principles of which any¬ 
thing consists.’ This one mental element or principle, 
God, as Mrs. Eddy terms it, is all there is. It under¬ 
lies all manifestations. We have at present a very 
inadequate and imperfect sense of it, so we sense evil 
as real, consequently some of our manifestations or 
objectifications are evil, or erroneous,—to correspond 
exactly to our thinking, the mental element in action. 
Wrong thinking, wrong manifestation. Right or true 
thinking, right or true manifestation. One balances 
the other. But the basic element, mind, remains un¬ 
changed. It is intelligence, consciousness. Tell me, 
Mrs. Rochelle, are you conscious now?” 

“Why, of course I am.” 

“You are also intelligent. So in reality, you must 
partake of or be an integral particle or unit of the one 
great Consciousness. Do not misunderstand me, evil 
mind, so-called, is very far from being God, the reality 
of Mind. God is but another term for Good. God 
is really a quality word, like Wisdom. It is an Ideal, 
a Standard, yes, a divine Principle. It is Mind in its 
true essence or condition—but it is the only real Mind 
—be it capitalized or not. In ‘Unity of Good’ Mrs. 
Eddy says in the first chapter ‘God is All-in-all. Hence 
He * * * * is perfect being, or consciousness. He 
is all the Life and Mind there is or can be. Within 


IMPROVING ONE’S TIME 49 

Himself is every embodiment of Life and Mind.’ 
Mind is the mental element and the mental element, 
which is ever conscious, is Mind—yours and mine. 
There is no other. You know Tf mortals, mortals, 
claimed’ or 'accepted no other, sin would be unknown’.” 

"You have cleared up the question of mind for me 
in a wonderful way,” put in Henri. "I see that mind is. 
mind, no matter how it is spelled or capitalized, and if 
mind is God, then God is mind, the same as since H z O 
is water, then water is H 2 0.” 

"You are right. The ancients deemed water to be 
one of the four primal elements which could not be 
decomposed into parts. We now know that the one 
primal element is mind, or life, or soul, or conscious¬ 
ness, of which our bodies and the things around us are 
objectifications. True our sense of mind, or life, is 
far from perfect, so our objectifications correspond. 
As we improve our thinking, our sense of life, and 
mind, the improvement will also objectify itself or be 
manifested in an improved body and environment, for 
effect follows cause, and God, mentality, is the only 
cause. There is no such thing as material substance. 
It is mental substance in its objectified state. Does this 
clear it up still more?” 

"Oh, yes, indeed, and now I see what Mrs. Eddy 
meant in the Scientific Statement of Being, 'All is in- 


50 THE INNER SECRET 

finite Mind and its infinite manifestation, for God is 

All-in-all’.” 

“Our hour is nearly up and as I have several more 
people to see before I leave my office I will just say in 
closing that Mrs. Eddy uses the word ‘man’ in two 
ways,” said Mr. Malcolm. “Sometimes she is refer¬ 
ring to the body and again she refers to individuals, 
units of consciousness, such as you and I, thinkers.” 

“That makes it much plainer, Mr. Malcolm,” said 
Henri, “you have answered an unspoken question I 
had ready. Now when may we come again, for I 
want to spend all the time I can, apart from my radio 
researches, in getting knowledge of this inner meaning 
of Christian Science.” 

“Like all of Mr. Walter’s students I do not take a 
great many patients, for he believes in devoting much 
time to each case, until you have healed it. I have 
a waiting list now, but since you do not need treatment 
and have come from so far, I will see you daily at 
this hour, to teach you informally some of the plain 
truths about Life. Silent treatment is not what you 
need, Mr. Rochelle. You are a natural thinker, and 
can work your problems out yourself as soon as you 
get more understanding, and your wife being already 
a willing believer is all ready to be transformed into 
an understander too. I am also to dine with you at 
seven in Mr. Fox’s suite.” 


IMPROVING ONE’S TIME 51 

“I am going to spend every minute between now and 
then in reading and study,” exclaimed Beatrice impul¬ 
sively, jumping up and gathering up her scarf and 
gloves. Mr. Malcolm’s eyes twinkled as he replied, 
“After getting a taste of the water of Life we are all in 
a hurry to drink and drink, but Mr. Walter advises us 
not to hurry or worry or grow tense and impatient. 
I am going to prescribe for you both and I want you to 
follow my directions. Walk back to your hotel, enjoy¬ 
ing your walk, observing the multifarious activities 
of the one Life about you, then lie down and have a 
good nap until time to dress for dinner. You were 
both up late and are too tense now to take in more 
which I shall be ready to give you by that time.” 

Beatrice’s face dropped an instant, but her husband 
answered, “Very good advice indeed. I can rest bet¬ 
ter now that I have found my way out of so many 
perplexities. Come, Beatrice. We are under orders!” 

“Not exactly that,” smiled Mr. Malcolm, “but my 
very best judgment. We don’t believe in orders and 
rules and all that. We point out the wisest way, as it 
seems to us, the sign posts, as it were, and you are 
free to follow or not. One certain thing. If we find 
ourselves on the wrong path we shall certainly, all of 
us, only have to retrace our steps and try again. Au 
revoir then, until seven.” 


52 THE INNER SECRET 

As the elevator shot down past the floors they 
caught a glimpse of the reading room sign, and Bea¬ 
trice smiled happily as she said, “How wonderfully 
everything has worked out since my visit there 
yesterday.” 

“Yes, and while waiting our turn in Mr. Malcom’s 
office I thought over our conversation this morning 
about utilizing God, Mind, instead of asking. I re¬ 
alized if you told that to anyone who was a Bible 
student he would undoubtedly reply, ‘Yes, that may 
be, but how do you explain Jesus’ words in Matthew, 
seventh chapter, ‘Ask and it shall be given you; seek 
and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto 
you.’ I noticed a Greek lexicon and a complete top¬ 
ical concordance on Mr. Malcom’s bookshelves and 
I studied them, glad that we had come early.” 

“Yes? What did you find? I noticed you were 
absorbed in something.” 

“I found the word translated ‘ask’ in the Bible has 
different shades of meaning in the original tongues. 
The Greek word in that Matthew verse is aiteo, 
meaning to ask, or crave, and that it is not the word 
for the seeking of a favor of an inferior from a su¬ 
perior. It signifies to ask or crave for something 
to be given, giving prominence to the thing asked for 
rather than the person. For instance, we might crave 


IMPROVING ONE’S TIME 53 

to hear instantly a beloved voice of a person residing 
in Geneva while we are in New York. In order to 
get that I would have to ‘ask’ it of radio science. It 
would be useless for me to beg or request or beseech 
radio science. I would have to investigate it, learn 
how to us it and then apply or utilize it. In other 
words, I would have to ask, seek, and knock—crave, 
question and signal it. The Greek word for ‘seek’ in 
those verses is zeteo, meaning seek, desire, require or 
question. The word translated ‘knock’ is krouo, 
meaning simply a knock at the door. It is the same 
word used in Acts, twelve, ‘And as Peter knocked at 
the door of the gate, a damsel came to hearken’. Also 
in Revelation three, ‘Behold, I stand at the door and 
knock.’ ” 

“How do you understand that, Henri?” asked his 
wife eagerly as they turned into the avenue and 
started towards the hotel. 

“A closed door usually does not open to us unless 
we knock, does it? Sometimes it had to be a certain 
signal or code knock as in war times. So any knowl¬ 
edge or science,—even a foreign language,—remains 
to us a closed door until we learn to knock aright. 
•There can be no other explanation. Too many mil¬ 
lions have asked, that is besought and pleaded, in 
vain, to make a good thinker satisfied that the super- 


54 THE INNER SECRET 

ficial meaning of such verses is the real one. So in 
the Science of Mind. We must crave, ‘ask’ of it, 
seek or inquire of it, then learn to knock aright and 
the closed door will be opened, revealing hidden se¬ 
crets. Our spiritual senses agree with this explana¬ 
tion, and I believe it is the true one. If so, how in¬ 
finitely valuable it is! I suppose there are thousands 
of struggling hearts right in this city, right in this 
Fifth Avenue crowd who have asked in vain. We 
must search, study and apply the methods already 
discovered, so we can be of help to them. Thoughts 
are a potent force when based on understanding, and 
as Mrs. Eddy said in your older Science and Health, 
‘the mental power’ is ‘the Messiah,’ which carries ‘the 
day against physical enemies’.” 

“Yes, it is what she calls ‘the grand point’ as you 
pointed out. Henri, how clearly you understand 
these things now! I am amazed.” 

“My reading and seeking have not been in vain, for 
when I got Mr. Malcolm’s viewpoint, it cleared up 
everything to me. Here I stand! Like Luther.” 


CHAPTER V. 

Daffodils. 

The afternoon was very warm for April. It 
seemed like early June to Willard Fox and his wife 
as they drove through Central Park and back down 
the Avenue. Mr. Malcolm had prescribed for them 
whatever they would most like to do, for he found 
their thought much distressed and disturbed. “En¬ 
joy yourselves thoroughly this afternoon,” he had 
said. “You need the tonic of joy. You need to drop 
these anxious thoughts and fears.” So they had 
chosen a leisurely drive through the park which was 
aglow with bright spring flowers and fresh young 
grass. 

“Mr. Malcolm told me to notice all the qualities 
I could in nature,” said Mrs. Fox, “as we drove along, 
and then to know that they too were included in 
Mind, even in my mind. What would you say about 
daffodils, Willard?” 

“That 'the winter of our discontent’ is o’er, and 
the present is golden with sunshine and bright prom¬ 
ises. That sounds poetic, doesn’t it?” he laughed as 
his wife clapped her hands. “You didn’t know your 
staid husband had poetry in him.” 

55 


56 


THE INNER SECRET 
“Why not? Since you are a particle of the All- 
Mind, you must have included in your mentality all 
good.” 

“I suppose so,” he assented. “But I really think, 
Sallie, I have gained more light on life’s problems 
in my two talks with Mr. Malcolm and from reading 
the Plain Talk booklets he loaned us than I have 
gained in ten years of ordinary study ” 

“Ten years?” she exclaimed. “Why, I never un¬ 
derstood things at all, before, although I have been 
taking patients for seven or eight years. They often 
asked me questions which I could not answer directly. 
I had to evade them, and when alone I have studied 
the subjects up, but I was not satisfied.” 

“It was,” he rejoined, “because, as Mr. Malcolm 
pointed out, we had not started right. I think he 
said Mrs. Eddy stated as much in her early editions 
of Science and Health. By the way, before I leave 
New York I shall try to get one of those early copies. 
I have never seen one. I wish they would print some 
more of them. I don’t see why they don’t.” 

“We will ask Mr. Malcolm tonight,” replied his 
wife, “and if we see another Christian Science read¬ 
ing room during our drive we will inquire in there. 
Let us turn into some of these side streets. I have a 
feeling that there is a reading room near here.” They 


DAFFODILS 57 

spoke to the chauffeur and were soon weaving in and 
out between the Avenue and Broadway. ‘‘If we only 
had a Journal we could quickly locate one,” sighed 
Mrs. Fox after a half hour’s search. “Let us go back 
to the reading room in Mr. Malcolm’s building and 
inquire.” But her husband shifted uneasily in his 
seat and said, “I wouldn’t. I heard a little discussion 
there yesterday, with Mrs. Rochelle you know, and 
I think we had better wait and ask Mr. Malcolm.” 

But Sallie Fox was not a woman who wanted to 
wait for anything. So when they at last saw the well 
known sign on a large window, “Christian Science 
Reading Room,” she told the chauffeur to stop and 
soon she was stepping up to a pleasant faced young 
woman behind the desk in the well-furnished, taste¬ 
ful reading room. 

“Have you a Journal?” she asked. 

“No, madam.” 

“Well, could you tell me if you have any of Mrs. 
Eddy’s books to loan?” 

“Oh, yes, we have a large lending library. Have 
you a card?” 

“No, I am a stranger here. We are in the city 
for only a week or two, but I can give you the best 
of references. I would like to borrow Science and 
Health, but one of the old editions. The first if you 
have it.” 


58 THE INNER SECRET 

The woman looked at her in amazement. “But, 
madam, we only have the very latest editions. We 
have no old ones. Why do you wish one of those? 
We are told to study only the latest.” 

“Who told us? I hadn’t heard.” 

“It is quite generally understood that Mrs. Eddy 
revised them in order to make the subject clearer. 
They—” 

“But,” interrupted Mrs. Fox, “they are not clearer. 
Have you ever read the first edition?” 

“No indeed. It is all contained in our present text¬ 
book, and I am very sure that in Miscellaneous Writ¬ 
ings Mrs. Eddy specifically tells us to study the 'lat¬ 
est editions’.” 

“Well, I don’t know as to that. I will look it up. 
But, in the meantime, I am going to search for one 
of the old ones. I am not afraid to read anything 
she wrote, or anything else, for that matter.” 

The young woman behind the desk saw that Mrs. 
Fox was intensely in earnest, so she leaned forward, 
shook a pencil in the air and said slowly, “My dear 
madam, I want to warn you. There is a movement 
all over the country to try to find and buy those early 
editions of our text-book. It means something. 
What,—I do not profess to know, but I want to 
warn you of it.” 


DAFFODILS 59 

“That does not disturb me in the slightest, my dear. 
Thank you for your effort to warn me against this 
unknown danger of reading Mrs. Eddy’s findings and 
revelations written down from 1866 to 1875 . I am 
not at all afraid. If there is anything written down 
by anyone anywhere that will help me to solve life’s 
mysteries and to lend a helping hand to others I am 
out to find it. Don’t you feel that way?” Her smile 
was so winning that the younger woman could not 
take offense, and she replied, “Well, if you put it that 
way—” 

“That is the way to put it, isn’t it? You are not 
satisfied with your attainments, are you? With your 
demonstrations? Just between ourselves, isn’t there 
something you have been working on for a long, long 
time that you haven’t seemed to solve?” Mrs. Fox 
had seen in her face as she talked a great hunger and 
longing. 

The sudden personal question brought quick tears 
to the eyes of the girl, as she replied bravely, “Yes, 
of course there is. And it is most important, too. 
I have worked hours every day, but—” 

“That is just it—‘BUT’! ” exclaimed Mrs. Fox. 
“We all have our buts. My idea is if we can find any¬ 
thing, anything, to help us, written by Mrs. Eddy at 
any time, or written by anyone else, we are foolish 


60 THE INNER SECRET 

if we do not use it. The world is full of misery, 
my dear. I see you have yours, and I am looking 
all the time for more light, a brighter, clearer light 
on our path, and it has been called to my attention 
recently that what Mrs. Eddy gave to the world at 
first, when she was alone and friendless, alone with 
God and her great revelation, is clearer and brighter 
than the same book as circulated today. I see you 
need help badly. May I come in again to see you? 
Will you be here tomorrow at this time?” 

The girl could not speak for a minute, then said, 
“I am here every afternoon during April. I shall be 
glad to see you again. But we cannot talk much 
here. It is a reading room, you know.” 

“Oh, I know. My dear, will you come to lunch 
with me at twelve tomorrow? I am at the Royal 
Arms Hotel. My name is Fox,” she said, offering 
her card. The young woman hesitated. Then said 
slowly, “One has to be very careful of accepting 
strangers’ invitations here in New York, you know. 
I—I—” 

“I understand perfectly, my dear, and I don’t 
blame you at all. I will come here and see you in¬ 
stead. Good-by,” and with a reassuring smile Sallie 
Fox returned to the waiting automobile where her 
husband sat watching the crowd passing, some of 


DAFFODILS 61 

whom stopped to gaze at the huge bowl of yellow 
daffodils in the reading room window, which made 
a vivid spot of gold against the dark velvet curtains. 

“I see they believe in having daffies,” he said as 
he helped his wife into the car. “Yes,” she replied, 
“and that young woman in there at the desk has her 
own little winter of discontent too. I’ve been talk¬ 
ing to her.” 

“You haven’t given her any of Mr. Walter’s book¬ 
lets have you?” he laughed. 

“Not yet, but I expect to, before I leave the city. 
She warned me against Mrs. Eddy’s early editions, 
but I have reasoned her out of that, I think. I 
wonder what she meant. She said there was a move¬ 
ment all over the field to turn back to them. I had 
not heard anything of it. I have been too much con¬ 
cerned with the trouble over the Manual and its in¬ 
terpretations. But that girl! I can’t get her out of 
my mind. She has certainly something that is wor¬ 
rying her tremendously. I am going back there to¬ 
morrow to see her.” 

“Good for you, Sallie,” said her husband, giving 
her hand a warm clasp. “Trust you to find out peo¬ 
ple’s burdens and to give them a lift.” 

“That is what makes life worth living. Oh, some¬ 
times when I am in a great city like this, and think 


62 THE INNER SECRET 

of the millions of people with pressing problems, 
burdens of woe and disease and sorrow, I feel as if 
some one ought to write a book showing them the 
way so plain—so plain that—” 

“He that runs may read, eh?” put in Mr. Fox. 
“Yes, at the present rate of progress it will take 
centuries before humanity will learn that God is Mind 
and Mind is God, and that they can change their 
conditions through mental means alone, through cor¬ 
rect thinking. ” 

“Why should anyone object,” responded his wife, 
“to making practical what we have been taught in our 
church,—that God is our Mind, and God is our life; 
that there is only one mind and that is our mind? I 
can’t talk in capitalized ‘M’s’ Willard, so you can put 
in all the capitals you want to while listening, or leave 
them out. As Mr. Malcolm showed us, mind simply 
means mentality, the thinking ability, intelligence, 
that which reasons, forms images and conclusions. 
It is the mental element in the universe which makes 
everything, which is the only creator. I am sure this 
new view-point will, as we go on studying, prove not 
only true but intensely practical. That is what I am 
after, something which will help me and everyone 
else. I always have such a feeling of love when I am 
in a big city like this filled with people from all parts 


DAFFODILS 


63 


of the earth, each with the same problems, want, 
sickness, grief, discouragement, longing for comfort 
and affection, and of course not lacking in the mes¬ 
merism of sin’s glamour. What can compare to the 
happiness of being able to bring a gleam of light and 
love and freedom to them?” 

“With or without permission of ecclesiastical au¬ 
thorities, eh?” smiled her husband. “What will your 
church back home say to your unorthodox views?” 

“I love the church, Willard, and you know I have 
worked for it. I have held nearly every office in it 
at one time or another, but if it comes to a question 
of following any organization or following my honest 
convictions of truth, there is no doubt which I shall 
follow. This movement is also taking place in all 
Protestant churches. As Mrs. Eddy truly says, ‘The 
time for thinkers has come. Truth, independent of 
doctrines and time-honored systems, knocks at the 
portal of humanity. * * * * Ignorance of God is no 
longer the stepping-stone to faith’.” 

“In the name of all good and common sense,” pur¬ 
sued her husband, “shouldn’t we exert every means 
in our power to get acquainted with the truth about 
God? It is stated that to know Him aright is life 
eternal. If we had been ultra conservative we would 
never have investigated Christian Science at all, but 


64 THE INNER SECRET 

have remained satisfied in the Episcopal Church with 
the Book of Common Prayer and the Apostles 
Creed.” 

“Well, my sole aim is to know God, to know Him 
in whom I have hitherto believed. Then to bring this 
knowledge to suffering humanity.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

New Light on an Old Path. 

The first part of the dinner was very jolly that eve¬ 
ning, for Mr. and Mrs. Fox, typical breezy western¬ 
ers, believed that laughter aids digestion, and Mr. 
Malcolm was glad to see them in so much better 
spirits than when they first called to see him. They 
talked with Henri Rochelle on his favorite subject of 
wireless communication and when he asked if one 
could not draw some important metaphysical lessons 
from it Mr. Malcolm answered, “Yes, indeed. And 
one lesson is that we are not affected by opposites. 
The receiving and sending stations must be in tune. 
In other words, if a patient is full of unbelief and 
scorn, we cannot help him. Even Jesus ‘could not 
do many mighty works because of their unbelief/ 
‘Again, an individual’s genuine goodness of character 
protects him from evil thoughts and desires of others. 
The prince of this world finds nothing in him.’ An¬ 
other point to be noted is that mind is one and we 
are just beginning to learn how to help other individ¬ 
ualities through mental means alone,—no wires, no 
medicines, just true thinking. We can help and heal a 
person in China or a person whose whereabouts we do 


65 


66 THE INNER SECRET 

not know, as well as though he were in the room with 
us, providing only that we know somewhat the nature 
of his ills or troubles, but we cannot teach him by 
silent mental means alone.” 

“How can we tell when we have worked long 
enough?” asked Mrs. Fox. “I have been taking pa¬ 
tients for some years, and that has always bothered 
me. I try to do my work and leave the rest to God, 
but I am not just sure when my work should stop 
and let His begin.” 

Mr. Malcolm smiled broadly. “Which one really 
does the work, you or God, then ?” 

“Oh, God, of course. He is the only healer,” re¬ 
plied Mrs. Fox. 

Just here Beatrice broke in with, “May I speak a 
minute? What I am about to say may sound disre¬ 
spectful to you, Mrs. Fox, but it is an actual experi¬ 
ence I had some months ago in Vienna. I had seen 
so many ill-nourished and literally starving children 
and grown-ups this particular day that I went to bed 
heart-sick. Our supplies were so meagre and they 
came through so irregularly that we could not half 
meet the need, the urgent need, on every hand. I 
could not sleep. And finally I sat up in bed and said 
aloud, ‘Well, God is right here/ and then my honest 
thought replied, ‘What if He is? What good does 


NEW LIGHT ON AN OLD PATH 67 
that do? What good does that do to these thousands 
and thousands in this city?’ I had to answer ‘Nothing.’ 
And then the still, small voice whispered, ‘But God 
is Truth,’ and that cleared it up, for I saw that since 
God is Truth He must be the very truth about this 
situation, and that it remained for me, for me to apply 
this truth in my thinking, and that was God. It was 
the first time I ever got a vivid glimpse of what Mrs. 
Eddy means about the impersonality of God. Was I 
right, Mr. Malcolm?” 

“Excellent as far as you went. You used your 
power of reason correctly, and right reason is the 
Christ, and this told you where the fault lay, which 
was in the notion that this ever-present God was there 
but would not or could not help those sufferers. You 
glimpsed through your correct reasoning that right 
thinking, or thinking the truth about the situation was 
the divine Mind at work, spoken of by Mrs. Eddy. 
Now tell us,—what did your right thinking about 
the situation do? Did it relieve those people’s 
distress ?” 

“No—o—o, I don’t remember that it had any ef¬ 
fect. I know I went to sleep after I had argued it 
out.” 

“Did you expect any results from your arguments 
or mental work?” persisted Mr. Malcolm. 


68 


THE INNER SECRET 

“Why, no,” replied Beatrice honestly. “I didn’t. 
Is that what was the matter? I haven’t had such 
uniform success as to warrant me in being optimistic 
about results. I know I argued it out quite a while.” 

“Replying to your question, Mrs. Fox, as to how 
long we ought to work—I would say positively, until 
we come to a definite conclusion on the side of truth, 
until we arrive at a fixed conviction. Otherwise the 
error has sway in our mentality, and so of course, 
in its objectifications. When the Truth or 'Divine 
Understanding reigns’ in us, in our mind, then it 
(God) does the healing. Does that satisfy you?” 

“Perfectly. That is very rational and reasonable. 
Why have I never thought of that before?” 

“Because we have not started right until we learn 
that we, mentality, are cause, and not effect. We are 
not the image. We are the projector of the image.” 

“How very plain you put it,” said Mr. Fox, while 
Henri Rochelle had notebook and pencil in hand tak¬ 
ing down notes. 

His wife gave a little frown as she observed this, 
saying gently, “Henri, I am afraid Mr. Malcolm 
would not like you to do that. We are not to take 
down notes. I was stopped twice when I was young 
in Science.” 

Mr. Malcolm laughed and reassured the embar- 


NEW LIGHT ON AN OLD PATH 69 
rassed young scientist by saying, “You are doing 
perfectly right. If I have any knowledge that will 
be of help to any they are welcome to it. You have 
heard me talk. Then why not carry the substance of 
it away with you in accurate written form besides 
using your memory. I prefer that you should take 
all the notes you want. Now, Mrs. Rochelle, in re¬ 
gard to your question, whether it was your lack of 
expectation of success that made you fail to produce 
results. Yes, largely. Our work can do no more 
than we permit it to do. All is Mind. That was Mrs. 
Eddy’s great discovery. If we send out a message 
of truth with the thought, This isn’t going to get 
anywhere or do any particular good, it is a good, 
healthy mental exercise, but of course, I can’t expect 
that I can depend on its good results,—’ well, Mrs. 
Rochelle, ‘Let not that man think he shall receive 
anything of the Lord.’ Jesus expected good results 
in his work. Of course, I realize you did not ap¬ 
proximate his understanding in the slightest, for until 
we start right we are not understanders, but mere 
believers.” 

“How would you have reasoned out those hungry 
people’s problems?” asked Henri Rochelle earnestly. 

“That particular problem was so vast, so world¬ 
wide that it would be a tremendous one for a novice 


70 THE INNER SECRET 

in Science to solve. But I should have known that 
truth and love, true thinking and the spirit thereof 
(love) were the sources of supply, and that I could 
think truly and win my way to a positive conviction 
or feeling of certainty. Then I should have tried to 
expect that added supplies were on the way and would 
reach me in time, systematically and regularly, for 
that is the law of harmony and Good. Really,” 
went on Mr. Malcolm, “we create the answers to our 
prayers, or the results of our mental work, which 
ever way we choose to express it. The need which 
drives us to work is mental, the work or treatment is 
mental, so the results must be mental too. It is the 
same as mathematics. The answer to every problem 
in that science is in existence. If we work it out cor¬ 
rectly we get the correct answer, if not, we get an in¬ 
correct answer. So in Christian Science. The an¬ 
swers to our problems are realities now, and they 
are always good and perfect, for perfection is the 
great Principle of Being. If we reason rightly and 
apply what we know, we get the correct answer, but 
if doubt, fear, or misunderstanding colors our think¬ 
ing, it colors the answer. Truly indeed, it is unto 
you ‘according to your faith.’ According to your 
understanding be it unto you—in results. Expecting 
but little improvement, we get but little; expecting 
none, that is what we get.” 


NEW LIGHT ON AN OLD PATH 71 

“But/’ interrupted Mrs. Fox with a shake of her 
head, “I cannot agree with you there. I know times 
when I have done my work carefully and expected a 
splendid healing, but it didn’t come. Then again, I 
can recall an occasion when I did the work hastily 
and was really surprised at the good results. So I 
cannot see it as you explain it.” 

“The whole trouble is, Mrs. Fox, we haven’t 
started right until we know what is what! We must 
know what we are. We must know what our bodies 
are. We must know of what true mental work con¬ 
sists. In my work—I won’t presume to describe 
yours,—but in mine formerly, before I read Mr. 
(Walter’s books, I thought I was a mere reflection of 
the divine Mind when I was giving a treatment. Just 
how it worked was not very clear to me, so a big 
element of uncertainty entered into it. I thought I, 
the ego,—my true self, or consciousness I mean—I 
thought that was the image of God, still how I failed 
to think rightly and so got into trouble when my mind 
was the likeness of God’s, was not clear to me, for 
His mind must certainly be sinless and incapable of 
errors.” 

“Yes, how do you explain that?” inquired Beatrice 
eagerly. 

“Do you remember some of the things I told you 


72 THE INNER SECRET 

about God, this afternoon? Our ignorance of Him 
causes all the trouble. He is Mind, mentality, and 
mentality in order to be true mentality must be able 
to reason and think. That is one side of God’s nature. 
Understanding or complete Wisdom, Comprehension 
are other descriptive terms for God. They describe 
the Ultimate of Being, or final state of mentality. 
In that final state there are no sins, no errors, no 
troubles. And, as Mrs. Eddy truly says, ‘if mortals 
claimed no other Mind and accepted no other, sin 
would be unknown.’ And that word Mind is spelled 
with a capital,” he added with a meaning smile. “It 
is because we persist in declaring that God is not our 
mind, that we reason wrongly from the very start. 
This grave error entered into all your treatments, 
Mrs. Fox, and an error in premise comes out in con¬ 
clusion. Sometimes you were surprised at the re¬ 
sults, either for or against your patient. The reflec¬ 
tion idea was shown forth in these same results. 
They reflected your uncertain, unscientific, incorrect 
reasoning. Our bodies are the reflection of ourselves, 
of our thought-convictions, not of every passing no¬ 
tion, but of the thoughts or ideas that have ‘registered’ 
in our mentality.” 

“I may be a heretic,” said Henri Rochelle slowly, 
“but I must ask a question. First, let me say, in the 


NEW LIGHT ON AN OLD PATH 73 
study of radio we do not ask ‘Did Marconi or Tesla 
say thus and so?’ and add if not, we don’t believe it! 
We ask, ‘Is it so? Is it true and capable of proof?’ 
But I have noticed everywhere that if a group of Chris¬ 
tian Scientists discuss these things they always base 
their conclusions on whether Mrs. Eddy said thus 
and so? As for myself, I cannot always understand 
what she does mean. Yet if I venture to say so I am 
told it is because my thought is too material to un¬ 
derstand her style. I am honest and in earnest, and 
these qualities ought with patience to enable me to 
understand her in a measure. For instance, when 
she asks in Recapitulation ‘What are body and Soul?’ 
why doesn’t she answer the question she asked? And 
her use of capitals is beyond me.” 

“Yes,” asserted his wife, “I brought with me a 
copy of the text-book I have, published in 1898 , the 
one hundred and thirty-ninth edition, in order to ask 
about that very question. In this book, she says 
plainly (page 473 ) ‘Soul is the Substance, Life and 
Intelligence of man. Soul is embodied, but not in 
matter, and can never be reflected in anything inferior 
to itself.’ I can understand that. I know matter 
isn’t matter. For all is Mind. So Soul is embodied 
in its own substance.” And Mr. Malcolm put in 
“Very well expressed. Soul must embody itself in 


74 THE INNER SECRET 

its own likeness or reflection, more soul or mind, 
although in another state, the objective state, which 
we at present see as matter, so-called.” 

“I am glad I have that right/’ said Beatrice, while 
Mr. and Mrs. Fox nodded in approval. “Now, in 
the present edition she has changed the capitals in a 
way that mystifies me, and seems meaningless. It 
reads instead of ‘embodied’—‘individualized’.” 

Mr. Malcolm took the copy of the present edition 
which Mr. Fox handed him and read “ ‘Soul is the 
substance (little “s”), Life (capital “L”), and in¬ 
telligence (little “i”) of man.’ Then she goes on to 
say ‘Soul can never reflect anything inferior to Spirit.’ 
First it reads ‘Soul’ is ‘reflected,’ and a few years later 
she writes, ‘Soul’ ‘reflects.’ And still they tell us 
the later editions are so much clearer! While on this 
subject of clarity I wish to read you a few extracts 
from the First Edition which are quoted in this little 
book I brought with me. Unfortunately I do not 
own one. Page 225 , ‘We are Spirit, but not knowing 
this, we go on to vainly suppose ourself body, and not 
Soul.’ Nothing about our being reflection there. 
Page 274 . “Knowing that we are intelligence and not 
intelligent matter; Soul and not sense, is the Truth 
that destroys all sickness, sin and death.’ You see 
she says the knowing is the Truth that destroys all 


NEW LIGHT ON AN OLD PATH 75 
error. Page 222 , 'The compound idea named man 
is unintelligent; it is a lifeless image and reflection of 
Principle, or Soul.’ There you have the reflection 
explained, Mrs. Fox, in no uncertain terms. It is the 
body which she calls man here. When you see a man 
walking past your window, it is his body that you 
see, is it not? If you say ‘There goes a woman down 
the street/ what do you mean?” 

“We mean of course that we see a female form/’ 
answered Mr. Fox. 

“And,” asserted Henri Rochelle, “that First Edi¬ 
tion is so much clearer than the current ones. To me 
there is no comparison. Why was it changed?” 

“I have only my own opinion to offer,” answered 
Mr. Malcolm. “But this is it. When you think of 
the state of religious and scientific thought a half 
century ago, it is a great marvel that Christian Sci¬ 
ence was discovered at all. After some years of 
practice and teaching Mrs. Eddy published her book, 
and as she says in it on page 330 , ‘Until the author 
of this book learned the vastness of Christian Science, 
the fixedness of mortal illusions, and the human 
hatred of Truth, she cherished sanguine hopes that 
Christian Science would meet with immediate and 
universal acceptance. The book was hard to sell. 
Her students went from door to door trying to dis- 


76 


THE INNER SECRET 
pose of the first thousand copies. Some of her stu¬ 
dents were uneducated and unwise people who made 
radical statements to curious ears, in other words, 
cast their pearls before swine. So gradually she be¬ 
gan to change these radical statements to less startling 
ones, although not changing the inner meaning. In 
this way the veil was put on, thicker and thicker, 
until—” 

“Until to-day” intercepted Mrs. Fox “in reading 
rooms one is told to beware of the original book.” 
Then she related to the others her interview of that 
afternoon with the young woman who finally ad¬ 
mitted she had a secret problem still unsolved. “You 
say she referred to Mrs. Eddy’s advice in Miscellane¬ 
ous Writings to study only her latest editions,” said 
Mr. Malcolm. “She undoubtedly considered it the 
wise thing to do at the time. You know she has a 
whole chapter in Unity of Good called ‘Caution in 
the Truth!’ That is significant. She also refers in the 
preface of the Manual to ‘absolute doctrines destined 
for future generations.’ These future generations 
may have begun to come, may they not? We are 
living in an age when rapid strides are made almost 
over night. Our scientific training is constantly de¬ 
manding more light, further discoveries, bolder 
experimentations.” 


NEW LIGHT ON AN OLD PATH 77 

“You are perfectly right, Mr. Malcolm,” said 
Henri. “We are enabled in our radio experiments 
now to put out a blaze with a certain sound, and 
Tesla predicts marvelous things along that line in a 
few years.” 

“Yes, it is a very interesting period of the world’s 
development and I, for one, am glad to be living here 
now,” replied Mr. Malcolm. “Are you going to see 
that young woman again, Mrs. Fox?” 

“I told her I would see her tomorrow afternoon. 
I really think she is looking forward to it, and I 
know I am. Since I talked with you this noon I have 
hardly thought of my physical trouble. It has just 
slipped my mind. And I am so interested in this 
new light on an old path that I can’t wait to get more 
books and literature on it.” 

“I feel the same,” said Beatrice, “and I know my 
husband does for he showed me that I needed 
straightening as well as he did. My thought was 
very much confused. So I make a motion that we 
offer a sincere vote of thanks to Mr. Malcolm for 
what he has done for us already.” 

Of course the vote was carried unanimously and all 
agreed at parting that it had been a feast in every 
sense of the word. 


CHAPTER VII. 

The Angel Throng. 

The next morning dawned amid heavy clouds, and 
an east wind was blowing a thick fog from the sea. 
Henri proposed to his wife that they do a little neces¬ 
sary shopping, have lunch in a French restaurant, 
and then go direct to Mr. Malcolm’s office. To this 
she agreed gladly, and they set forth on the wet pave¬ 
ments and under the dripping awnings. Their shop¬ 
ping accomplished, they seated themselves in a cozy 
restaurant which had an old world flavor and began 
to scan the menu card. The waiter came up and was 
delighted to chat with Mr. Rochelle in his native 
tongue. When the former departed with their order 
Henri noticed that Beatrice was sneezing repeatedly 
and wiping her eyes. 

“Oh, Henri! I do believe I have taken a horrid 
cold this damp morning. I am chilled through. I 
want a hot drink and then hurry up to Mr. Malcolm 
for a treatment. He will dispel this error in short 
order.” 

“Why wait?” asked Henri smiling. “Why not do 
it yourself? Put into practice what you already 
know.” 


78 


THE ANGEL THRONG 79 

“I would try if I were back in my room. It is so 
public and confusing here.” 

“Would you do that way if the cashier gave you the 
wrong change? Would you say ‘when I get back to 
my hotel I will get out my arithmetic and figure this 
thing out’? Wouldn’t you immediately, instead, use 
your knowledge of addition and subtraction right on 
the spot, and settle the matter then and there? I 
would. Why not be as quick, and as certain of re¬ 
sults in metaphysical science as in mathematical?” 

“Oh, Henri! I wish I could. How splendid you 
are! You are so clever and get right to the point at 
once. Let me see. How shall I begin? I must not 
say that because I am the reflection of God I cannot 
have a cold. I have tried that a good many times 
but it didn’t seem to heal me. And Mr. Malcolm 
said that the ego, the I, is mind, cause, and not effect. 
That the body or our circumstances are the reflection 
of our mind or of our thinking. So I have been 
thinking ‘a cold, a cold.’ Why, I see it now. If I 
am mental, no material cold air or water could touch 
me except as a thought. I am not material. I am 
mind, mentality, then any effect produced on me must 
come through mind. The idea of a cold must find 
lodgment in my thought in order to affect me at all.” 
As she felt her way carefully along as though groping 


80 THE INNER SECRET 

in a dim light her husband watched with keen interest 
the expressive growing light which was playing on 
her countenance as she argued from the new stand¬ 
point. He smiled encouragingly. 

Suddenly she straightened up with a determined 
“It is my privilege to decide this matter,—whether I 
am to be hospitable to this intruder or not. And I 
have decided. I am not. Henri, I, my mentality, 
my God-being, must be self-governed, when I argue 
in accordance with Truth. And I have decided. I, 
I am perfectly well. I am always perfectly well and 
harmonious since I am what I am.” 

“Brava, Brava, petite! You are doing finely. You 
have added and subtracted correctly. You have 
reached a just and final decision according to divine 
metaphysics. Now let’s dismiss the matter and enjoy 
this steak and mushrooms. And doesn’t that French 
bread look good? I have often been told of this place 
by friends of mine who have visited New York, and 
now I see for myself.” He continued to keep her 
thought occupied with stories of these same friends 
and by the time the first course was finished the epi¬ 
sode of the cold was forgotten. Her body manifested 
her true reasoning and decision on the side of Truth. 

In the middle of the afternoon, Rose Northup sat 
behind the desk in the Christian Science reading room 


THE ANGEL THRONG 81 

waiting for the promised visit of the stranger, Mrs. 
Fox, whose few words had resounded in her ears 
every waking moment. “My idea is if we can find 
anything, anything to help us, written by Mrs. Eddy 
at any time, or written by anyone else, we are foolish 
if we don’t use it. I am looking all the time for more 
light, a brighter, clearer light on our path. I see you 
need help badly. May I come in again to see you?” 
These kind words had roused in Rose Northup a 
faint hope, the first she had really had for months. 
Had her prayers, her agonized entreaties to divine 
Love been heard? Had this incorporeal, supreme 
Being, God, guided Mrs. Fox to the reading room to 
help her? Yes, it must be so. Yet, she argued, it 
couldn’t be so, for her errand had been to try to bor¬ 
row a First Edition of the text-book, and certainly 
it wasn’t necessary to go back to that! Of course 
she had never seen one. And she would like to. Yes, 
she would admit that to herself. But her problem 
was so peculiar. It was so intimate and confidential. 
Could she tell it to this stranger? It wasn’t like hav¬ 
ing a growth, or a fever, or a cold, or even just lack 
of supply. Four o’clock! And she hadn’t come. 
Was she going to fail her too? No, there she was 
entering the door. How light was her step and. how 
friendly her smile. Rose wished she had accepted her 


82 THE INNER SECRET 

invitation to luncheon for that noon. 

Mrs. Fox halted at a table, looked at a pamphlet, 
then gradually moved slowly and unobtrusively to the 
desk where Rose stood waiting. 

“What time does the room close?” she asked in a 
low tone and with a cordial clasp of her hand. 

“It is open until nine usually, but, as tonight is 
Wednesday, it closes at seven because of the mid-week 
testimony meetings. But, Mrs. Fox, I knew you 
would keep your promise to come so I have made 
arrangements to leave the room in the care of another 
worker, and I shall be free in a half hour.” 

“Good, I am so glad. We will take a car down to 
my hotel and have a good talk. You see, I brought 
along an old Journal which displays my card as a 
Christian Science practitioner in Santa Gabriela, Cal¬ 
ifornia. This is my formal introduction, or 'refer¬ 
ence/ so you will know it is quite proper to go with 
me. 

“Of course I will go, and gladly. I am ashamed 
of my hesitancy of last night. I really hoped you 
would make an opportunity for an uninterrupted talk, 
as I believe since you are a total stranger I can talk 
more freely to you than to some one who knows me 
well. If you will just wait till four-thirty I shall be 
ready.” 


THE ANGEL THRONG 83 

Mrs. Fox bowed and returned to a table, selecting 
the booklet called “Christian Healing” by Mrs. Eddy. 
Mr. Malcolm had just been explaining to her how 
impossible it was for outward error, or other people’s 
so-called malpractice to injure her body, unless she 
gave it that power herself. And even then the injury 
would come entirely from her own thought, from her 
own conviction that it would harm her with its con¬ 
sequent fear. He had told her to look on the sixth 
page of “Christian Healing” for verification of this, 
and she read the whole page carefully, coming towards 
the bottom to this: “But the fact remains, in meta¬ 
physics, that the mind of the individual only can pro¬ 
duce a result upon his body.” She stopped in surprise. 
Surely she had read this sermon of Mrs. Eddy’s many 
times before. Why hadn’t she seen it as she did now? 
She read on and on. “If you wish to be happy, argue 
with yourself.” “With yourself!” she exclaimed in 
a whisper, then continued, “argue with yourself on 
the side of happiness; take the side you wish to carry, 
and be careful not to talk on both sides, or to argue 
stronger for sorrow than for joy. You are the at¬ 
torney for the case, and will win or lose according to 
your plea.” She read on and on. At the bottom of 
page eleven she noticed this: “Metaphysics places 
all cause and cure as mind;” (“a small ‘m’ ” she ex- 


84 THE INNER SECRET 

claimed). “Metaphysics requires mind imbued with 
Truth to heal the sick; hence the Christianity of meta¬ 
physical healing. “How simply explained!” she 
thought. 

The clock in a nearby church tower chimed the half 
hour, and Rose Northup was at Mrs. Fox’s elbow 
ready to accompany her, and in a few minutes they 
were seated in the latter’s sitting room at the Royal 
Arms Hotel. 

“What are these little books?” asked Rose as she 
picked up a pack of them from a table. “They don’t 
look like anything the Publishing Society sends out.” 

“Nor are they,” smiled her hostess calmly. “But 
they have given me great light nevertheless. Let’s 
not talk about them just yet. We will come to them 
later. When I know more about your need I shall 
know better how to approach the subject of author¬ 
ized or 'unauthorized’ reading matter.” 

“I was engaged,” began Rose abruptly, her eyes 
staring into space, “to a Captain in the United States 
Marines when the war broke out. He was a natural¬ 
ized American, being of Russian birth. My family, 
consisting of an older sister, her husband and two 
children with whom I live, were opposed to the en¬ 
gagement and would not hear of our marriage before 
he left for the other side. They said I was affected 


THE ANGEL THRONG 85 

by the hysteria of the times and ought to set an ex¬ 
ample of strong-mindedness to other weaker girls 
who, in spite of my noble example, persisted in be¬ 
coming war-brides, nevertheless. ,, 

She spoke with a certain bitterness which Mrs. Fox 
noticed at once, and she read the situation before the 
girl uttered another word. Living in her brother- 
in-law’s home, disapproved of because she had given 
her heart to a foreigner, more or less dependent upon 
this brother and sister, she had brooded over her 
plight until she could not reason satisfactorily. For, 
of course, the Captain had not returned. 

“Nicholas never came back,” went on Rose at 
length, with such a look of despair in her eyes that 
Mrs. Fox was forced to wipe her own in sympathy. 
“He was sent after the Armistice to northern Russia. 
Oh, that terrible winter! What he must have en¬ 
dured!” and her face sank in her palms while she re¬ 
mained silent for a short time. Mrs. Fox began to 
declare silently, “Happiness is a quality of mind, a 
right for every individual, so it is her right, and her 
possession NOW. Mrs. Eddy says to argue on the 
side of happiness always.” 

“Did you never hear from him?” she inquired at 
last. Rose lifted her head and exclaimed, “Oh, it is 
such a relief to talk about it! Yes, I heard irregularly, 


86 THE INNER SECRET 

of course. And then after news of a raid by the Bol- 
sheviki which came out in the papers,—there—there 
was an awful silence. No news. No letter, day after 
day. My friends tried to help me by soliciting the 
aid of the Red Cross as well as the Government at 
Washington. But we could learn nothing—nothing. 
I tried to do my mental work, I tried to know that as 
the image of God he could not be in any danger, that 
God was in Russia the same as He was here, there¬ 
fore no evil power could get to Nicholas. I had a 
practitioner work for weeks. Then one night two 
years ago I had a dreadful dream. I saw him in great 
danger and he gradually disappeared from my sight, 
sort of melted into the air. And when I awoke I 
was in a cold chill and perspiration, and later that day 
I had a letter from a Red Cross worker in Poland, 
saying he had traced a band of American and British 
soldiers who had gotten separated from the main 
company, and were pursued and—and—killed by the 
Bolsheviki. He added that of course Nicholas Louma 
was among that party. And so it ended!” she ex¬ 
claimed, with an expressive gesture. “And I am still 
living with my sister’s family. I have a small income 
of my own and I substitute at the reading room of 
our church, showing a smiling face to the world, but 
with an awful ache at my heart. I suppose I must not 
look for happiness in this world, that—” 


THE ANGEL THRONG 87 

“I don’t see it that way. at all,” interrupted Mrs. 
Fox decidedly. “What other world can you experi¬ 
ence happiness in but the one you now live in? I 
fear we Scientists almost unconsciously put off much 
good to another world, or another plane, which we 
really expect to enter through death.” 

“If I had been his widow I could have gotten a 
better hearing with the Washington authorities. In 
law there is a vast difference between fiancee and 
widow. But I have tried to take up my life again and 
go on, as thousands of others have had to do. I don’t 
make a great success of it—way inside! And the 
other night I had another vivid dream about him. I 
thought he came home, home to me, and we went 
apartment hunting. It was awful—to wake up!” 
Mrs. Fox noticed that her visitor was clenching her 
hands in the greatest distress, so she felt that quick, 
heroic measures were necessary. 

“Regarding the dreams, dear,” she said in a matter 
of fact tone, “The first one was simply the result of 
your weeks of anxiety; it pictured forth your greatest 
fear. Then this last one shows how persistently hope 
springs in the human breast. It pictured your great¬ 
est hope, namely, his safe return. I believe that is 
what will happen yet. I don’t see that you have any 
proof whatever that he was killed by exposure or in 


88 THE INNER SECRET 

battle. You have only the opinion of that worker in 
Poland.” Rose looked up startled. Could it be there 
was still a chance? Then a dark despair settled over 
her. “I do not want you to talk that way to me, Mrs. 
Fox. I don’t dare hope any more.” 

“I know how you feel, dear child. But hope is our 
salvation. 'By hope are we saved,’ you know. I be¬ 
lieve you were sent to me because I have gained a new 
light on Christian Science, and I know it can help you. 
I am going to telephone Mr. Malcolm to see if he can 
come down and dine with us. He is the one you 
ought to talk to,” and she picked up the receiver, but 
Rose caught her arm. "Wait a minute. Do you 
mean that disloyal practitioner named Malcolm? He 
has his office right in the building with one of our 
reading rooms, and palms himself off as a Christian 
Scientist. My own practitioner is on the floor above 
him and she often sees him in the elevator.” 

"What of that?” inquired Mrs. Fox with a smile. 
"If I were dying of thirst I wouldn’t quibble over the 
looks or kind of a cup of water was brought to me in, 
or over the personality of the person who brought the 
cup. Water is what you want, and Mr. Malcolm has it. 
Take my advice. Let him offer it to you, at least. If 
you don’t like the taste of it, and think it contaminated, 
you don’t have to drink it. If I were in your place I,— 


THE ANGEL THRONG 89 

well, I wouldn’t let anything strangle my hope. Your 
Nicholas is as anxious to see you as you are to see 
him, doubtless. What was it Mr. Malcolm said here 
last night?” and she puckered her brows in thought. 
“I have it. He said 4 We can help or heal a person in 
China or a person whose whereabouts we do not 
know as well as though he were in this room with us’.” 
Mrs. Fox repeated the words slowly and positively, 
then waited. After a moment she heard a faint voice 
saying tremulously, 44 You may ask him to come, 
please.” 

Mr. Malcolm detected in Mrs. Fox’s tones that the 
occasion was an urgent one, that the invitation to dine 
was no ordinary one, and he felt he must answer this 
call for help if possible. So at seven that night, he 
found himself again in the same suite, but greeting 
a strange young woman who looked frightfully un¬ 
happy and as if she had been caught stealing some¬ 
thing, by the mere fact of her presence in the room 
with him. 

Mrs. Fox spared the girl the ordeal of retelling the 
story herself, and when he had gained the main facts 
he turned to Rose and said cheerfully, 44 As I see it, 
there is a possibility that he is still living on this plane 
with us. If he had disappeared in France or Belgium 
during the war I should think he had been killed, but as 


90 THE INNER SECRET 

it happened, he was in Russia, in Russia, where every¬ 
thing was topsy turvy, where there are practically no 
railroads in operation, where there was no stable gov¬ 
ernment at the time, where anything might happen. If 
he were parted from his companions and survived all 
this time he might find himself in a remote peasant 
village, without any means of communication what¬ 
soever. Do you know what it costs to get a letter 
through to America? It takes a small fortune in 
rubles for the mere postage. And then again, the 
very fact that he was a native Russian was greatly in 
his favor. He could palm himself off as a Bolshevist, 
if necessary to save his life.” Rose’s expression 
changed as he was talking and she watched him keenly 
as he sat in silent thought a few moments. The room 
was very still, and it seemed to the two ladies that 
they could feel mind, Mind, at work, and that work 
was correct thinking according to the divine facts of 
Life. Mrs. Fox had never had such an experience. 
The powerful force of Mentality, mentality at work 
in harmony with Good, with Truth, seemed pulsating 
through the room. 

At length, they heard Mr. Fox open the hall door 
and his wife went to him immediately so that he 
would not disturb her guests. When alone with Rose, 
Mr. Malcolm said gently, “I will tell you, because you 


THE ANGEL THRONG 91 

are the one so vitally interested, that I have no sense 
that Mr. Louma is gone. I feel that he is living here 
and now. Of course I am not infallible, but I have 
learned that real Mind is omniscient, and when we 
cultivate our mentality to think and reason properly, 
we also learn to sense things, to have intuitions which 
I have found to be almost invariably correct. Jesus 
knew when Lazarus died without being told, as you 
will note by a careful reading of the story.” 

“What can I do?” inquired Rose tremulously, quite 
forgetting that she was consulting an ‘unauthorized’ 
teacher and practitioner. “I have tried so long to 
work on it, that I haven’t any faith in my own work.” 

“That was partly the trouble, then. But probably 
you, like thousands of others, are a believer in Truth, 
instead of an understander. We have to understand 
radio, do we not, to install a ‘set’ and to operate it? 
I will give you some points which perhaps you have 
not thought of before, that is,” he added with a kind 
twinkle, “if you wish me to. You know, perhaps, that 
I am not considered ‘regular.’ But neither was Jesus. 
He was called a glutton and a winebibber, and Paul 
and Peter were even imprisoned by the ‘regulars.’ 
Mrs. Eddy, too, had her mental crucifixion by ortho¬ 
doxy. Now Mrs. Eddy’s followers, or hosts of them, 
are in turn persecuting those who differ with them 


92 THE INNER SECRET 

in certain points. History has a way of repeating 

itself.” 

“I will tell you frankly, that I hesitated before let¬ 
ting Mrs. Fox telephone you. I had heard of you,” 
she replied. 

“Anything bad?” 

“No—no. I even heard of a splendid case of heal¬ 
ing you did last winter. But of course those things 
happen under a doctor sometimes.” 

Mr. Malcolm could not restrain a smile, as he re¬ 
plied, “Yes, indeed. Nature is determined to aid us 
on the road to health if we give her a chance. But in 
regard to your problem, I would propose that you let 
me handle it for a short time until you do some 
reading I shall outline for you. First, you must un¬ 
derstand that you and Capt. Louma are units of the 
same great Consciousness, the One Mind, we study 
to learn about. He is a particle of the same men¬ 
tality that you and I are. so he can really only be 
reached through mind. This we can do. You believe 
that, don’t you?” 

“I suppose so. It doesn’t sound just as I’ve been 
taught, some way. We are reflections or images of 
God, of course. Not particles—God cannot be split 
up into fragments; He is One and indivisible.” 

For answer, Mr. Malcolm took from his pocket a 


THE ANGEL THRONG 


93 


small gilt-edged book and turning to page seventy- 
eight of it began to read: “J esus used the wind to 
typify Spirit, Mind, or Understanding, and we can 
do no better than use the air or wind to illustrate the 
truth of the oneness of Mind. Is the wind, air or at¬ 
mosphere about us separate from that in other lands? 
Are we not all in, and do we not all breathe this same 
wind or air? Is the air in this room or in my lungs, 
separated from that which is outside? Is that which 
is in my lungs my own personal possession ?***** 
No! must be the answer to all these questions, for al¬ 
though I may use it individually, yet it is not mine to 
retain, neither can I permanently destroy it, for it is 
self-purifying. So with Spirit, or Mind. All may 
partake of It, all may possess It, none can retain It 
as his own, although all are in touch with It. Through 
It, therefore, all are inseparably linked together 
through and by Spirit, although all seem separate 
human beings.” Rose listened intently. “How mar¬ 
velously clear! Which of Mrs. Eddy’s books is that 
in? I don’t remember it. I wish I had seen that be¬ 
fore. It simplifies matters.” 

“Mr. William W. Walter wrote that in his book 
The Sickle.’ Before you read that, I want you to 
study these little booklets I brought for you, also go 
by yourself once every hour if possible, (and it is) 


94 THE INNER SECRET 

—and realize, get the sense , that All is Good; that 
even the Bolsheviki are of the same mental substance 
you are. Stress strongly that All is Good, God is All- 
in-all. The cruelty and revenge expressed by the 
Russians now are the result of centuries of oppression. 
Feel compassionate towards them. Captain Louma is 
receiving now our loving thoughts which, since they 
are based upon the absolute Science of Life, will pro¬ 
tect and free him.” 

Mrs. Fox tapped at the door and announced that 
dinner was served, and soon Rose found herself talk¬ 
ing freely to her host whom she now saw for the first 
time. Mr. Fox had been in Russia some years before, 
in the interests of a large oil concern, and he could 
tell her many things of the customs and people which 
held her attention. 

“Nicholas came to this country when a child of 
ten,” Rose said, “so his recollections were vague. 
But he always loved Russia and read and spoke the 
language at every chance. As Mr. Malcolm says that 
may have been of help to him.” 

“Undoubtedly. And now, Miss Northup, let me 
warn you not to be disturbed by anything Mr. Mal¬ 
colm says regarding Christian Science or regarding 
anything he asks you to read. This is your only hope 
of reaching Mr. Louma, isn’t it?” 


THE ANGEL THRONG 95 

She nodded, as the tears welled up in her eyes. 
“If I could be sure he was not dead—or passed on, I 
should say.” 

“If he has gone, Mr. Malcolm’s work will not hurt 
him, and if he is still with us on this earth, it will 
reach him I verily believe.” Mr. Fox said this so 
positively that it carried conviction to Rose, and she 
looked up gratefully. “I believe you are quite right.” 

After the dinner was over Mr. Malcolm said he must 
leave at once so as to get to work, and Rose begged to 
be excused too, as she had promised to meet her sister 
at their church. “I shall get in in time for the testi¬ 
monies,” she said, adding, “Won’t you accompany 
me, good friends?” 

Mrs. Fox thought for a moment, and then said, 
“Yes, I will go gladly. Come Willard, get your hat. 
Perhaps we will hear an experience that will help us. 
Some one else may have a lost loved one restored.” 

The second hymn was being sung as they entered 
the edifice. It was one of Mrs. Eddy’s, and the 
words: 

“And wake a white-winged angel throng 
Of thoughts, illumed by faith, and 
Breathed in raptured song, 

With love perfumed.” 

resounded from the hundreds of throats as they 


96 THE INNER SECRET 

walked down the aisle, and Rose turned to Mrs. Fox 
with face illumined. “I feel as though I had sent that 
angel throng tonight to rescue Nicholas.” 

“You have, my dear, you have. Mr. Malcolm is 
sending them right now.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Digging For Hid Treasure. 

Beatrice Rochelle spent all the time when her hus¬ 
band was absorbed in radio studies and experiments, 
in reading the literature recommended by Mr. Mal¬ 
colm. She found it intensely interesting and she pur¬ 
chased much of it to take with her to Stratford, where 
she felt they must go soon, for Aunt Delia was getting 
insistent in her letters that they come at once. She, 
too, was getting impatient to see Aunt Delia and the 
friends among the townspeople, after her long ab¬ 
sence. But Henri was reluctant to leave New York 
and its sources of information on the two subjects 
nearest his heart. 

Mrs. Fox had arranged a meeting between Beatrice 
and Rose Northup, and they often walked and talked 
together after meeting at Mr. Malcolm’s. Rose 
finally told Beatrice her little life story and how it 
had led her to Mr. Malcolm. “What do you think 
of it?” she asked one day. “I know it has given me 
the greatest hope and courage. My sister asked me 
today what I had done to make me look so much 
better.” 

“I think that the very fact that it did lead you to 

9 7 


98 THE INNER SECRET 

Mr. Malcolm shows that he can work it out. He did 
wonderful things before, with what he now calls his 
former ‘faith-science,’ but now with the inner meaning 
of Mind and Life and God’s allness made plain to us 
by Mr. Walter, I have not the least doubt of his suc¬ 
cess,—and yours. I have been doing some thinking 
while you were telling me the story. You know I 
was abroad three years in relief work, and I know 
many workers all over the stricken districts. I am 
recalling particularly a Dr. and Mrs. Goodman who 
are still in Smyrna. I will write them of Nicholas. 
They may be able to get word of him through some 
other workers in the Caucasus or Constantinople. 
The refugees are continually coming in with all sorts 
of news bits.” 

Rose grasped her arm convulsively. "Do you 
know, Mr. Malcolm told me yesterday to keep realiz¬ 
ing the truth in Revelation, ‘Behold! I have set before 
thee an open door.’ I have repeated it and repeated 
it nearly every waking minute since, till I have gotten 
quite a strong feeling that there is an open door in 
front of Nicholas.” 

"Splendid!” exclaimed Beatrice eagerly. "Come, 
let’s go tell Mr. Malcolm my plan.” 

But Mr. Malcolm did not favor writing to the 
Goodmans, he proposed cabling at once. "Things 


DIGGING FOR HID TREASURE 99 

sometimes move rapidly over there,” he said. “Let us 
do our part speedily.” So they wrote out the cable 
message and sent it off at once, and the two girls left 
the building in an exalted mood, sure that they had 
set in motion, at Truth’s bidding, the human agency 
which would aid in the rescue, or would bring some 
definite word of Nicholas’ fate. “Your persistent 
work opened the door,” said Beatrice as she left Rose. 
“And now we must have faith in our work more than 
ever, the kind we have when we plant our gardens 
in the spring. The faith that knows and expects the 
seeds to grow.” 

When Beatrice reached the hotel she found that 
she had had a telephone call from Stratford, so, some¬ 
what alarmed, she called the operator and asked to be 
connected with her aunt’s home. Henri was not back 
from Newark. How she wished he were there with 
her! She was answered by a strange voice. “Yes, 
this was Mrs. Delia Rowe’s home. This was the 
nurse speaking. Mrs. Rowe had had a bad fall and 
would Mrs. Rochelle come as soon as she could? No, 
nothing dangerous to her life. A fractured hip, that 
was all.” 

“That was all!” ejaculated Beatrice as she rang 
off. “I must go up the first thing in the morning,” 
and she began to pack at once. Henri did not come, 


100 THE INNER SECRET 

and at six o’clock she called up Mr. Malcolm and told 
him what had happened. She would not see him 
again before leaving, but she and Henri would surely 
be in town again before going back to Switzerland to 
go through a class with him. “Just give me a parting 
thought to take with me, please,” she begged. “I 
know just how I shall be swamped with error when 
I reach Stratford under these conditions. My aunt 
is old fashioned, and,—” “And an unbeliever in Sci¬ 
ence?” asked Mr. Malcolm. “Well, rather,” returned 
Beatrice drily. “I will read to you a sentence from 
the First Edition of the great book we all love. That 
which its author names ‘The Precious volume’.” 
Beatrice understood perfectly that he was reading 
from Science and Health as originally written, when 
the divine hand had guided her pen and she was led 
into a new world of light and Spirit. 

“Now listen carefully. ‘Jesus knew that the body 
is but a reflex shadow of immortal Soul, also that it 
is impossible to lose this, for, as the Scripture saith, 
it is the image of God.’ You well know a shadow 
cannot be broken, especially if it is the reflection of 
‘immortal Soul.’ So there is your standpoint from 
which to work. Go with the understanding of what 
her body is, and then if you correct her thinking, the 
shadow must do likewise.” 


DIGGING FOR HID TREASURE 101 

It seemed easy to Beatrice when Mr. Malcolm was 
talking to her and she was a hundred miles from 
Stratford, but when she reached her aunt’s bedside, 
saw the nurse and doctor, heard the groans of pain 
and felt the heavy, pessimistic atmosphere, it needed 
all her courage and understanding to cope with it all. 
Henri proved to be a tower of strength, and all his 
spare time was spent in reading Mr. Walter’s books 
and the writings of a few other authors who wrote 
from his viewpoint. Mrs. Rowe’s husband had been 
a clergyman of the Congregationalist faith and Henri 
pored over his library also, and now and then he 
would call Beatrice and read to her a gem he had 
found. One Sunday afternoon while Aunt Delia was 
having a nap, Henri asked his wife, “Did you ever 
think why Mrs. Eddy chose those particular verses 
from the Bible to be read at each service? I mean 
John: 3 : 1 - 3 . It reads, you know, 'Now are we the 
sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall 
be.’ Isn’t that remarkable? Don’t you suppose she 
trusted that some of her followers would get the inner 
meaning ?” 

“Henri, I never thought of that. How smart you 
are!” 

“No indeed. I got that from Mr. Walter. But I 
want to read you a little bit I found in this book of 


102 THE INNER SECRET 

your uncle’s. It is called ‘The Epistles of St. John’ 
by Brooke Foss Westcott, D.D., Bishop of Durham 
England. It contains the Greek text with notes and 
essays. While I am not a Greek scholar there are 
many Latin notes and those I can understand. Bishop 
Westcott says the text of the epistles is contained in 
Greek, Old Lain, Latin Vulgate, Syriac, Egyptian, 
Armenian and Aethopic manuscripts. He sums up 
the three verses we are speaking of as, ‘The position 
present and future of the children of God.’ He trans¬ 
lates them thus from the Greek, ‘Behold (See), what 
manner of love the Father hath given to us, that we 
should be called children of God:—and such we are. 
For this cause the world knoweth us not, because it 
knew him not. Beloved, now are we children of God, 
and it is not yet manifested what we shall be. We 
know that if he shall be manifested, we shall be like 
him, because we shall see him even as he is. And 
every one that hath this hope on him purifieth him¬ 
self even as he is pure.’ He goes on to say: ‘Chil¬ 
dren of God/ not ‘sons of God,’ which comes from 
the Latin. The thought here is of the community of 
nature with the prospect of development (compare 
2 Peter L 4 ) and not of the position of privilege.’ 
He also says farther on, ‘The image in which we were 
made will then be consummated in the likeness to 


DIGGING FOR HID TREASURE 103 
which it was the divine purpose that we should attain.’ 
Tn treating of this final transfiguration the Greek 
Fathers did not scruple to speak of men as being 
“deified,” though the phrase sounds strange to our 
ears. (Athan. de Inc. Verbi iv No. 22 ).’ Isn’t that 
interesting, Beatrice?” 

“It certainly is. Let me read it for myself.” She 
read it all carefully, and .then began aloud, “ ‘The 
likeness to which it was the divine purpose that we 
should attain.’ It was St. John who quoted Jesus as 
saying, ‘Is it not written in your law, I said, Ye are 
gods? If he called them gods unto whom the word of 
God came, and the scriptures cannot be broken; Say 
ye of him, whom the Father hath sanctified, and sent 
into the world, Thou blasphemest; because I said, I 
am the Son of God?’ Oh, Henri, how glad I am that 
I persisted in hunting up Mr. Malcolm for he has 
opened up a new world to me.” 

“To us,” said Henri reverently. “Now there is one 
more place I want to read you. ‘Carissimi, Dilectis- 
simi, Beloved.’ How sweet that sounds,” continued 
Henri, “in the Latin! It is like our words Dearest or 
Dearest Ones. Then Bishop Westcott goes on to 
say, ‘John in the spirit of love addresses those who 
with him look forward to the issue of love. In doing 
this he takes up the words which he has just used, 


THE INNER SECRET 


104 

half in personal reflection. ‘Yes, now are we chil¬ 
dren, with the promise of mature development.’ He 
will not be anything essentially different hereafter, 
but he will be what he is now essentially, more com¬ 
pletely, though in ways wholly beyond our powers 
of imagination.” 

“Splendid,” exclaimed Beatrice; “that is like Mrs. 
Eddy’s phrase in the foreword of the Church Manual, 
‘Absolute doctrines destined for future generations.’ 
Mr. Walter makes it so clear that humanity is in the 
child position now, a very infantile thought, yet that 
there are unlimited possibilities ahead of us, even the 
Father position, where we see that mentality is cause, 
or father. Henri, I believe there used to be an old 
copy of Science and Health in two volumes here in 
the Christian Science reading room. I am going 
down there tomorrow and have a look for it. If it 
isn’t there I will ask Mrs Cartwright what has be¬ 
come of it.” 

“Who is she? The local general?” 

“Why, Henri! We don’t have such things in a 
Church!” 

“O—O—h!” exclaimed her husband with a pro¬ 
longed inflection. 

“Mrs. Cartwright is the advertised practitioner 
here. She has a general oversight of things in this 


DIGGING FOR HID TREASURE 105 
field. We will go down there tomorrow, you and I, 
and have a look at what there is in the room.” 

“Yes. Perhaps we can find something more definite 
about how we must think of the body. You used to 
tell me before we came to America that we must 
know we are incorporeal, that is bodiless. I can’t 
quite understand that. If mind is cause, must it not 
always have an effect? If thoughts are things, won’t 
they always cast a shadow?” 

“It isn’t really clear to me. It would seem just as 
you say, Henri. But I would feel much better if I 
could see that Mrs. Eddy said so.” 

“I thought you would feel that way. Now, with 
me, the question is, Ts it so?’ ” 

“Well, you are a born scientific investigator, Henri. 
Did you ever read the Apochrypha to the Bible, that 
collection of writings which the compilers rejected as 
being—as being—inadvisable to include in the Holy 
Canon?” 

“Unauthorized, are they? No, I never did. Give 
me a look at them.” 

Beatrice took down from an upper shelf a large 
Family Bible and turned to the Apochryphal writings 
which were placed between the Old and the New 
testaments. “What!” exclaimed Henri, in surprise, 
“They are printed in the Bible? I never saw one 
before.” 


106 


THE INNER SECRET 

“No, they don’t seem to do it now. But nearly all 
the very old Bibles have them in. I wonder why they 
gave up the practice.” 

Henri was busily scanning the pages. “Listen to 
this from the seventh chapter of The Wisdom of 
Solomon: 

‘ 7 . Wherefore I prayed, and understanding was 
given me: I called upon God, and the spirit of 
wisdom came to me. 

10 . I loved her above health and beauty, and chose 
to have her instead of light: for the light that 
cometh from her never goeth out. 

11 . All good things together came to me with her, 
and innumerable riches in her hands. 

12 . And I rejoiced in them all, because wisdom 
goeth before them: and I knew not that she 
was the mother of them’.” 

“Mr. Malcolm said that Wisdom was his favorite 
name for God. ‘Wisdom goeth before them:’ that 
is, one must have wise, right thoughts first, then the 
demonstrations follow,” said Beatrice thoughtfully. 

“Yes,” said her husband. Isn’t it interesting? I 
will go on.” 

13 . I learned diligently and do communicate her 
liberally: I do not hide her riches. 

14 . For she is a treasure unto men, that never 


DIGGING FOR HID TREASURE 107 
faileth: which they that use become the friends 
of God, being commended for the gifts that 
come from learning. 

15 . God hath granted me to speak as I would, and 
to conceive as is meet for the things that are 
given me. 

21 . And all such things as are either secret or 
manifest, them I know. 

22 . For wisdom, which is the worker of all things, 
taught me: for in her is an understanding 
spirit, holy, one only, manifest, subtil, lively, 
clear, undefiled, plain, not subject to hurt, 
loving the thing that is good, quick, which 
cannot be letted, ready to do good. 

23 . Kind to man, steadfast, sure, free from care, 
having all power, overseeing all things, and 
going through all understanding, pure and 
most subtil spirits. 

24 . For wisdom is more moving than any motion: 
she passeth and goeth through all things by 
reason of her pureness. 

25 . For she is the breath of the power of God, and 
a pure influence flowing from the glory of the 
Almighty: therefore can no defiled thing fall 
into her. 

26 . For she is the brightness of the everlasting 


1 US THE INNER SECRET 

light, the unspotted mirror of the power of 
God, and the image of his goodness. 

27 . And being but one, she can do all things: 

29 . For she is more beautiful than the sun, and 
above all the order of stars: being compared 
with the light, she is found before it.' 

T. Wisdom reacheth from one end to another 
mightily: and sweetly doth she order all things. 

4 . For she is privy to the mysteries of the knowl¬ 
edge of God, and a lover of his works. 

5 . If riches be a possession to be desired in this 
life; what is richer than wisdom, that worketh 
all things? 

6 . And if prudence work; who of all that are, is 
a more cunning workman than she? 

9 . Therefore I purposed to take her to live with 
me, knowing that she would be a counsellor 
of good things, and a comfort in cares and 
grief. 

13 . Moreover by the means of her I shall obtain 
immortality’.” 

“What is the matter with that? It sounds pretty 
good to me,” continued Henri. “Solomon was some 
metaphysician. When one realizes that this wisdom 
spoken of is understanding of the facts of Being such 


DIGGING FOR HID TREASURE 


109 


as we are now learning, it makes it even clearer.” 

A few minutes later he exclaimed, “Look here, Bea¬ 
trice. Do you remember in Mr. Walter’s book ‘The 
Unknown God’ where he explains what are the seven 
faculties of mind,—hearing, seeing, feeling, tasting, 
smelling, and reason and understanding?” She 
nodded “Yes.” 

“Listen to this from Ecclesiasticus, seventeenth 
chapter, and remember that ‘the Lord’ really means 
Mentality or Mind: ‘The Lord created man of the 
earth, ***** And p U j- th e f ear 0 f man U p 0 n all 
flesh, and gave them dominion over beasts and fowls. 
They received the use of the five operations of the 
Lord, and in the sixth place he imparted them under¬ 
standing, and in the seventh speech, an interpreter of 
the cogitations thereof. Counsel, and a tongue, and 
eyes, ears, and a heart, gave he them to understand. 
Withal he filled them with the knowledge of under¬ 
standing.’ There is much more of interest here, but 
you can read it for yourself later. It helps me to see 
that the old metaphysicians had wonderful glimpses 
of mind’s power. ‘An interpreter of the cogitations 
thereof!’ What is that, but the ability to judge right 
or form correct conclusions following proper 
reasoning.” 

The next afternoon Beatrice and Henri went to 


110 THE INNER SECRET 

the reading room and told the lady in charge that 
they wanted to look for a book that used to be there. 
She inquired if she could help them and when she 
learned what book it was, she said she remembered 
seeing two small green books on a shelf in the closet. 
They got a chair and climbed up to find it, and soon 
Beatrice triumphantly brought forth two volumes of 
the eleventh edition of Science and Health, and she 
and Henri spent the afternoon studying them. Henri 
stepped over to his wife’s side and whispered, “Read 
those few lines there on page 180, Volume I.” She 
read with surprise: “Your body is spiritual and per¬ 
fect in every part, harmonious in every action; and 
let this model appear to your thoughts instead of the 
sick model.” “That certainly answers our query as to 
what Mrs. Eddy taught about our bodies, doesn’t it?” 
said Beatrice with a satisfied smile. 

“Yes indeed,” replied her husband. Then he 
turned to page 211 and pointed to “Life is the law of 
Soul, and Soul is never without its body or representa¬ 
tive; therefore body can no more die than Soul, and 
both are immortal.” “Henri, I am amazed! Oh, why 
were these plain, clear statements taken out!” 

“Are you satisfied now ?” he asked in a whisper. 
“For if not, I have found one more. Read this on 
page 212, same volume. “She read: 


Ill 


DIGGING FOR HID TREASURE 

“There is no life, substance, or intelligence in mat¬ 
ter, all is mind, there is no matter. Mind is immortal; 
therefore its embodiment is immortal, and this em¬ 
bodiment is mind, and no more matter in the waking 
hours than when it acts, walks, sees, feels, enjoys, or 
suffers in the dream of sleep. Remember there is no 
mortal mind wherewith to make a mortal body out 
of the beliefs of death, sickness and sin. There is 
but one, the unerring and immortal, and this one 
contains no mortal views.” Beatrice impulsively 
caught up the book and walked over to Mrs. Grey 
who was in charge of the room that day. “Mrs Grey, 
did you ever study these little books? Just read that! 
And see how clear it is! You had a veritable prize 
tucked away on that closet shelf.” 

Mrs. Grey took the book and read the passages 
Beatrice indicated, a look of perplexity growing on 
her face. “Why, can this be by Mrs. Eddy?” she ex¬ 
claimed aloud, turning to the title page. “Yes, By 
Mary Baker G. Eddy. How strange, but how splen¬ 
did! I am going to spend the rest of the time after 
you go in studying them.” And Beatrice returned to 
her reading. 

In Volume Two she read on the second page: 
“When we become Spirit we shall have but one Mind, 
for there is no room for more if that One is infinite. 


112 THE INNER SECRET 

Do we yet understand that saying, ‘I and Father are 
one’? We must reckon the I from the standpoint of a 
Principle, and leave the form, as it is the reflection of 
life and intelligence.” “The question today is, 
whether the T is Principle or person, Soul or body, 
God or man.” “Henri,” she whispered, “I am in awe 
before Mr. Walter, to think he should have brought 
all ‘these things to our remembrance/ They were in 
plain print, but we didn’t see them. The books have 
been shoved aside on top shelves and in closets.” She 
continued to read, and finally jotted down on a piece 
of paper the following to send to Rose Northup as it 
touched on her problem: 

Vol. 2 , page 8 . “The telegraphy of mind speaking 
to mind should claim no electricity and need no wires. 
Metaphysical Science acknowledges no matter or elec¬ 
tricity. ***** Truth pervades all space, needing 
no material method of transmitting its messages; we 
only know it blesses man, but ‘cannot tell whence it 
cometh.’ ***** 4 Soul sends despatches every¬ 
where, but the electric wire can only carry to Europe 
a submarine whisper, foreshadowing metaphysical 
science. Little by little thought must give up its ma¬ 
teriality, and become spiritual.” 

Same volume, page 15 . “To know the past, present, 
and future is the office of intelligence; yea, it is the 
everpresent Truth.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

Moonlight In Russia. 

Rose Northup had just finished reading the above 
quotations in Beatrice’s letter the following evening 
when she was annoyed by her brother-in-law’s tapping 
on the door and saying, “You are wanted below, 
Rose.” She was annoyed because the message con¬ 
tained in the letter had renewed her enthusiasm and 
faith in Mr. Malcolm’s work, and she had determined 
to spend the evening in further study and work, for 
Mr. Malcolm had that very afternoon given her a line 
of thought to study out, and ponder. He had told 
her to take Jesus’ instructions literally, to “believe that 
ye have received,” to believe, even to delineate to her¬ 
self the rescue of Nicholas, or at least news of his 
fate. So when her brother called her she was vastly 
disappointed, and opened the door reluctantly. She 
was greeted by a hurried exclamation, “Rose, you 
have the queerest callers below. I came up to tell you 
myself, for if you don’t know anything about them 
and don’t care to see them I will get rid of them at 
once. I don’t like the appearance of the man at all. 
The girl does well enough.” 

“Describe them to me. Didn’t they give any 
names?” asked Rose in wonder. 

113 


114 THE INNER SECRET 

“No, they wouldn’t give any names. Said you 
wouldn’t know them. The man is an old Jew, I am 
sure. The young woman calls him ‘Father.’ Maybe 
you have made their acquaintance in the reading room. 
Although they look to me as if they came from the 
lower East side. I was almost afraid to leave them 
alone in the room.” 

“Afraid, Ralph?” smiled Rose. “Aren’t you a 
Christian Scientist ?” 

“Yes, but there is a time and place for all things. 
Well, are you coming? Or shall I show them the 
door?” 

Rose hesitated a moment, then said, “I will see 
them. Perhaps they need help.” 

A minute later she was facing an elderly man in 
shabby clothes and wearing a long beard. He left 
the daughter to do the talking, who began in fairly 
good English: “You don’t know us. Your name, 
ees eet Miss Rose Northup?” Rose bowed. “And 
yours,” asked Rose. “My name eet ees Rose, also. 
Rose Ivanovna Tschikonoff, and this ees my husband’s 
father, Boris Tschikonoff. We bring you somet’ing.” 
“Russians,” thought Rose, her mind in a whirl. She 
sank down on a seat nearby. “Be seated,” she said 
faintly. The girl sat down, but the old man still stood 
twirling his tall black hat in his fingers. “My hus- 


MOONLIGHT IN RUSSIA 115 

band, Michael, was his only son. We married two 
months before Michael he went to the war. He was 
captured by the Germans early in the winter, three 
years ago, and turned over to the Russian Bolshevists. 
He was imprisoned, and made his escape at last, and 
the relief workers in Constantinople got him aboard 
a boat sailing for America a year ago.” Here the girl 
began crying softly. Rose steadied herself to bear 
what might be coming by leaning against the back of 
the chair and gripping the arms with both hands. 
The room was whirling around before her eyes, and 
she tried to think connectedly. “Go on,” she pleaded. 
“I see you are the one,” said the girl with aggravating 
slowness, wiping her eyes. “Michael, he die on the 
ship. His t’ings were sent to me and to him,” point¬ 
ing to the old man, who still stood uneasily twirling 
his hat in his great hands, and eyeing Rose. 

“Yes, you must be the one,” repeated the girl star¬ 
ing at Rose. “His t’ings they come a year ago. Only 
a handful. A letter written to me on shipboard, a 
few clothes given him by the kind ladies in Con¬ 
stantinople, and a long envelope containing this that 
I bring you. I put it away for I didn’t know what to 
do with it. I work all day making vests and pants, 
and last night my boss he send me to deliver a pack¬ 
age, and I lost the address. I was scared, and then I 


116 


THE INNER SECRET 
thought of the city directory, so I went in a drug store 
and asked to see one. I opened it to the ‘Ns’ and 
there, right in front of my eyes, was your name, Rose 
Northup. I was so surprised I forgot for a couple 
of minutes to look for the name I wanted. I found 
that, then I copied off your address and told Father 
of it when I got home. We got the paper out and 
he said he would come and see you. We had to wait 
till I got through my work tonight, so we come. So 
here we are, Mees Rose Northup. And I see by your 
face, you must be the one we look for. We never 
thought you might be here in New York.” 

Rose reached a trembling hand for the long, grimy, 
rumpled envelope and waited a minute for courage 
to open it. It was unsealed and she drew forth a 
sheet of music paper covered with the words and 
music of a song. At the top was written “With apol¬ 
ogies to Rubenstein.” Below this the title “MOON¬ 
LIGHT IN RUSSIA” and in a very fine hand “Ded¬ 
icated to Miss Rose Northup.” Then came the music 
and words, a single verse, but all written in Nicholas 
Louma’s own handwriting. 

“When did you say, when did you say you got 
this?” stammered Rose excitedly. 

“About a year ago. That was all there was to it.” 

“And you have had this a whole year, right here in 


MOONLIGHT IN RUSSIA 117 

New York, and I didn’t know it!” moaned Rose, her 
face sinking in her hands. “You didn’t tell me!” 

“I sorry,” said the girl. “I didn’t know where this 
Rose Northup live. You know the man who wrote 
that leetle song?” 

But Rose, for the first time in her life, had quietly 
fainted. The two callers gave an exclamation of dis¬ 
may, and Ralph Potter, who had not gone far from 
the hall door, hurried in. The Russian girl excitedly 
explained their errand, and picked up the soiled en¬ 
velope, and the sheet of music paper, asserting volubly 
that they had not hurt the young lady, they only 
brought her what was hers. 

Ralph pushed her aside, barely glancing at the song, 
and called his wife, who came hurrying in response to 
his urgent tone. She opened the windows, loosened 
her sister’s dress, then said, “I must telephone for 
help. She has taken a great fancy to a Mr. Malcolm 
lately. I don’t know him, but I will call him. She 
doesn’t confide in me any more.” She bustled away 
to the telephone, and Ralph ushered the two Russians 
into the hall, and telling them to wait, he went back, 
picked up the paper and this is what he read: 


With apologies 
to Rubinstein. 


Moonlight in Russia. 

Dedicated to Miss Rose Northup. 


-hbb-t- - 



irlrcv ft <-— 



D 

# p» 

ft \) A • 




CT —* - 


1«Lj! 

P|P— 

P -# ^ 

S !, 

Night_- 

in-gale, thy 

r r h 

/.v l . ~ s—s_n i 

r o s s□i 

A p H- 

r>, \rw. • n 

r r i i 

i ° 

rr " 

p p J 

'ckW . 0 

—h »— 

m 


mz 

v p -r - 

r 

lJ 

1 1.. L 

_ 


FTj 






-- —XL 

=t5 

« i2 ■ : 

Sr——- 1 

|*4-' £ - : 

nt. w: 

^sV ''^TV 

rtirTB, rrn»Ti 

hirl - 

pS 

J=£ — 3 

ing snow, 

M=^i 


gj ^ 

dJ 



118 












































































































































Moonlight in Russia.—Concluded. 










































































120 


THE INNER SECRET 

“Hm!” said Ralph as he hastily read over the 
words. “Some poetry! If I couldn’t rhyme things 
better than that I’d leave it to some one who could. 
I don’t see anything to make Rose topple over like 
that.” He looked down at the still form and as he did 
so he noticed a slight movement at the hall door. 
The portiere moved and the Russian girl slipped into 
the room. 

She quickly knelt by Rose and began chafing her 
hands. “I know,” she said looking up at Ralph Pot¬ 
ter, “what eet ees to lose the one you love. My man 
he die in the way home to me. Him that wrote the 
music, I t’ink him and my Michael were together in 
prison. I don’t exactly know. I only t’ink. My 
Michael’s letter eet say nothing of that man. You 
know him, that man, that poet ?” she pointed with one 
hand to the music, with the other patted Rose’s cheek. 
Ralph pursed his mouth and then said “Slightly. 
That is, if it is the one I think it is. An old admirer 
of this young lady, my sister.” 

“I t’ink she admire him too, no? She faint when 
she see the letter. For of course, eet ees a letter in the 
disguise, what you call eet?—in the disguise of a song. 
You onnerstand, if you in a prison in Russia, or even 
if you a suspect, you cannot send letter through the 
post the way you can here,” and she smiled grimly at 


MOONLIGHT IN RUSSIA 121 

certain recollections. 

“Well Ralph, at last I’ve gotten Mr. Malcolm on 
the ’phone,” said Mrs. Potter bustling in. “His voice 
sounded rather nice. Quite refined, you know, in 
spite of, of what we’ve heard. How is Rose? She 
looks better. Why! She is opening her eyes! Rose, 
Rose, my dear. You are all right. You are feeling 
better, aren’t you? You had a surprise or something, 
you know, and fainted. But God’s reflection is never 
touched by these errors, and now you had better sit up 
and forget about it. I will dismiss your guests, and 
then put you to bed.” 

“Dismiss my guests! Joan Potter! You will not! 
Yes, I had rather of a surprise. You would think so 
if you had a message from Ralph for the first time 
in years, and you had thought he was dead. My 
dear,” turning to the other girl, “Sit down and tell 
me everything you know about the music and even 
the envelope. I want every word.” 

In a few words Rose Ivanovna told her meagre tale, 
that the music enclosed in this very envelope had been 
found in her husband’s coat and was sent to her, who 
puzzled over it a little after the shock of her Michael’s 
death had begun to wear off. Neither she nor Father, 
nor the Greek priest to whom she had shown it could 
decide what to do with it, except to keep it, so she 


122 THE INNER SECRET 

Had put it behind their Ikon, their sacred picture, for 

safe keeping, “Et Voila!” she concluded in excellent 

French. 

Rose studied the music, the words, the writing care¬ 
fully, then took down the address of the girl and her 
father, and opened a purse at her side. 

“No, no/’ exclaimed Rose Ivanovna quickly. “No 
money from you. I could not take it. I glad to bring 
you the music.” She hesitated, then said shyly, 
“Would you play it for me some time? I have looked 
at it so many times, pulled it out from behind the Ikon 
and wondered how it sounded, I love to hear it. The 
words are of a beauty, I t’ink. They begin all sweet, 
song going out free from a heart imprisoned. Going 
to you, like the nightingale’s voice in June in our 
Russia. Then the storms come. No birds. No moon¬ 
light. No song tapping at your window pane. But,” 
and here she shook her finger at Rose, “Your man has 
made a beautiful ending. He say 'Moonlight will 
come again!’ Ees eet not so?” and she turned her 
lovely eyes up to Ralph. He was clearing his throat 
and scuffing his feet on the soft rug uneasily. Some 
way this Russian girl had a way with her that gripped 
his throat. She was plaintive, she was naive, she 
was— 

Just here the door bell rang and suddenly remem- 


MOONLIGHT IN RUSSIA 123 

bering that he had left the old man alone in the hall, 
Ralph Potter went out just in time to see Mr. Malcolm 
being ushered in. He remembered having had him 
pointed out to him some time before as being a con¬ 
vert to some other teaching. So he was uneasy now 
to see him entering his own house, and to think he 
was going to minister to Rose. But Mr. Malcolm 
stepped forward with outstretched hand, and said 
pleasantly, “Mr. Potter? My name is Malcolm. Your 
sister has need of me, has she? ,, 

“Yes, that is, she did. She seems all right now.” 
He put his hand on the old Russian’s shoulder and 
guided him to the door, and together the trio entered 
the drawingroom. “What next?” breathed Joan Pot¬ 
ter to herself as she saw them come in. “My husband 
and that renegade Scientist and a little old Russian 
Jew! Well, it’s all Rose’s fault. She always did 
like the queerest people. Used to feed the hand-organ 
man and even the monkey when he would come down 
our block years ago.” 

The great news was soon told to Mr. Malcolm, who 
was all attention, and who asked some pertinent ques¬ 
tions of the two visitors. No, they did not know what 
prison Michael had been in. 

“We will cable this to Dr. Goodman,” he said, 
turning to Rose. “It is very important. Now we 


124 THE INNER SECRET 

know he was not shot. A year ago he was alive. And 
I believe he is still waiting and hoping we can rescue 
him. Let me see the music, please. ,, He studied it 
thoughtfully, finally beginning to hum. 

“It goes very well till I get to those last two lines, 
but they are—they are un-singable! Perfectly incom¬ 
prehensible! Sharps and flats thrown about regardless 
of any principle. Tell me, was Mr. Louma some what 
of a musician? I judge so by his being able to write 
this.” 

“He was a passionate lover of music, and had 
studied it a little,” replied Rose. “We often played 
and sang his favorite Russian composers a whole even¬ 
ing. Rubinstein was a great favorite. Nicholas was 
a man all fire and imagination, yet calm and courageous 
and quiet outside. One did not really know him until 
after a year’s close acquaintance. This song looks like 
Rubinstein’s BARCAROLE, or an adaptation from it. 
Of course the words are Nicholas’ own.” 

“Would it be possible for you to play and sing it?” 
asked Mr. Malcolm “or is it asking too much?” Rose 
went to the piano and placed the music on the rack. 
Then she stopped, quite overcome. Mr. Malcolm 
stepped to her side. “Remember, you are doing just 
what he wants you to do, by playing it. We must dis¬ 
cover if there is any inner meaning. Of course there 


MOONLIGHT IN RUSSIA 125 

is. If I were in your place I would be so very happy 
to have it, to think I had had a message from him, to 
think our Christian Science work had uncovered and 
brought it to you, that I—I—would throw my window 
wide open and let the moonlight in, and thank God 
for it!” By this time Rose had recovered her poise 
and with a wistful smile turned to the audience of four 
and said “1 will try, but my voice is not that of a 
nightingale.” 

She played the opening bars and as she did so, 
stopped and exclaimed “How we loved this movement 
and the plaintive quality of the Barcarole. We used 
to say it was mis-named, and we re-named it several 
times. Now, he calls it ‘MOONLIGHT IN RUSSIA’.” 

“As seen through prison bars,” uttered the old man 
in a deep voice. They were the first words he had 
spoken, and a hush fell on all as they involuntarily 
pictured to themselves the scene Nicholas must have 
had before him as he wrote. Even Joan Potter wiped 
her eyes. 

Rose’s voice began bravely and continued till she 
came to the interlude and she saw ahead of her the 
words “Whirling snow. Nightingales gone.” She 
gave a little appealing glance at Mr. Malcolm who in¬ 
stantly struck in with her and his fine baritone rang 
out triumphantly at the end, “Moonlight will come 


126 THE INNER SECRET 

again!” “You see,” he said, “the composer closed his 
song in the major key abruptly. That is the way we 
should do. Close our reasoning on any subject in the 
major or optimistic key. It is the grand Truth that 
heals, not the denials.” 

The little Russian Rose left her seat and clasping 
her hands came up to the American Rose saying pas¬ 
sionately, “I would give anyt’ing, anyt’ing, to have 
the hope you have—to see your man again. I t’ink 
you will. But my Michael, he gone. I never see him 
any more.” 

The old man with the long gray beard groaned and 
dropped his hat unheeded to the floor. Mrs. Potter 
toyed with her string of beads and her husband 
frowned and gnawed his moustache. 

“Your husband has not gone any where, dear child,” 
said Mr. Malcolm. “The part you loved was mind, 
soul, was it not? That hasn’t changed. That loves 
you and thinks of you just the same. And you can 
think of him. So although you cannot touch him, you 
can still hear his voice, and see him in mind, can you 
not? To you he is alive, as he is. There is no real 
death to mind. He was never in a body. The part you 
love is still unchanged, it is still invisible, as it always 
was. You never saw it when he was here in New 
York, did you?” The girl was transfixed, leaning for- 


MOONLIGHT IN RUSSIA 127 

ward gazing straight at the speaker as if she could 
never hear enough of this kind of talk. “The YOU 
of yourself is always invisible, it is mind, thought, con¬ 
sciousness. That will never change, except to grow 
more beautiful, to unfold more and more like your 
name, a lovely Rose. Michael, too, is unfolding with 
you. You will see him again.” 

“Tell me more,” breathed the girl, her eyes never 
leaving Mr. Malcolm’s face. 

“You and Michael are like two lovely flowers grow¬ 
ing on the same stalk. Michael went up a little higher 
than you and at last he looked over a wall and you 
didn’t see him after that, but you are still growing to¬ 
gether on the same bush. The same life, energy and in¬ 
telligence is flowing through you both For Life is 
God, and God is all, and there is no death in Life.” 
The girl arose, motioned to her father-in-law, and said 
“Come, now we go. We brought good and we take 
good away with us. And I must go home and fink, 
t’ink about Michael, growing on the same life as me. 
Same bush, same rose, same color, same perfume. I 
satisfied. T’ank you very mush. I come ’gain Mees 
Rose Northup, and see your man when he come from 
Russia. Good night.” 

The old man raised his hands as if in benediction and 
said “Good speech here to-night. Better than we hear 
in Russian church. T’ank you.” 


128 THE INNER SECRET 

Ralph found himself actually shaking their hands 
at the door and saying “I hope you will come again.” 
“Oh, yes, we come see Nicholas,” smiled the girl as she 
guided the old man down the steps, and with a wave of 
her hand they were gone. 

“If I had more time I would gladly stay and help 
you unravel the snarl at the end of the song, Miss 
Northup,” said Mr. Malcolm looking at his watch, “but 
I have important things to do elsewhere, and I know 
you can do it before you sleep tonight. You know 
you are intelligence, and mind knows just what to do 
and how to do it.” 

Rose retired to her room again, and as she entered 
it and lighted the gas log she recalled how impatient 
she had felt when Ralph had tapped at her door to 
tell her she had some queer callers below. Suppose 
she had refused to see them! Suppose Rose Ivanovna 
had been turned away from her door bearing the 
precious envelope forever out of her reach! With a 
shudder she sank down on a low seat by the fire and 
with the song clasped in her hands she settled down 
to think, to think hopefully, to think scientifically. 
What was it Jesus had said? “If ye have faith as a 
grain of mustard seed nothing shall be impossible 
unto you.” “When ye ask believe that ye receive and 
ye shall have.” What could be plainer metaphysics 


MOONLIGHT IN RUSSIA 129 

than that? “Ye shall not only do this that I have 
done to the fig-tree, but if ye shall say to this moun¬ 
tain, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea; 
It shall be done. And all things, whatsoever ye 
shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.” 
“There seems to be no limit,” mused Rose as her 
faith soared on the Master’s words. Again He said, 
“For verily I say unto you. That whosoever * * * * 
shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those 
things which he saith shall come to pass; he shall have 
whatsoever he saith. Therefore I say unto you, What 
things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that 
ye receive them, and ye shall have them.” “Then,” 
pursued Rose, “in order, in order to receive we must 
be singleminded, have mental steadfastness first. If 
our desires will harm no one else, if they are good and 
happy desires I must claim that I know I will have 
them, for mentality alone creates, and by doubting 
and fearing that we won’t get our desires fulfilled we 
kill them ourselves, for ‘he shall have whatsoever he 
saith,’ right or wrong, what we want or what we don’t 
want.” It was plain to her as she sat there what a 
transformation her mind had undergone in the last 
few weeks since Mrs. Fox had first visited the reading 
room and led her to Mr. Malcolm. Previously her 
thought had wavered between “I want” and “I am 


130 THE INNER SECRET 

afraid I can’t have,” between “Perhaps God has willed 
it thus and so,” and “No good thing does He with¬ 
hold from them who walk uprightly.” Wavering, 
she saw, never got anyone anywhere. “He that wav- 
ereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind 
and tossed. Let not that man think he shall receive 
anything of the Lord.” 

She knew that in order to heat an oven a steadfast 
heat must be maintained, to freeze water a certain 
temperature must constantly prevail. So in the realm 
of Mind, a solid mental conviction that because right 
thought has all power, if ye “believe that those things 
which he saith shall come to pass, he shall have what¬ 
soever he saith,” this solid, steadfast state of mind, 
understanding, will be objectified as the answer to 
your prayer or mental work. With this settled, Rose 
went to work in earnest, knowing that Intelligence 
was quite equal to solving the riddle of Nicholas’ 
song. 


CHAPTER X. 

An Evening in Stratford. 

Before Henri and Beatrice had left New York, 
Mr. Malcolm had told them of the wonderful book 
written by Mr. Walter in which he had given the 
truth about Life, about God and man, in plain lan¬ 
guage, and he had allowed them to read extracts 
from it. “The Sickle,” said Beatrice, looking at the 
cover. “What a strange title! May we have a copy 
to take with us to Stratford.” Mr. Malcolm told 
them that the book was not for sale in the ordinary 
way, but that he could order one for them, since he 
could recommend them as honest seekers and thinkers. 
Accordingly, they eagerly awaited its coming, and 
when Henri brought in a package from the post of¬ 
fice one evening, they could hardly wait to open it 
when they saw it was the book. Aunt Delia was 
dozing in her bed, just through the open doorway 
from where they were sitting. Henri opened the book 
and skimming through the Introduction read aloud a 
couple of paragraphs from it to Beatrice. 

“Listen, petite, this suits me. The author says, T 
have experimented in this metaphysical work with as 
much care as any chemist ever exercised in his most 
131 


132 


THE INNER SECRET 
painstaking tests. Every experiment in my work has 
been carefully watched and noted, and after years of 
conscientious study and practice, a sure foundation 
has been acquired, and also ability to present the facts 
on which this foundation rests, so clearly that anyone 
willing to apply himself diligently to this study as 
he would to the study of music or mathematics, can 
gain an understanding of the Science of Life. He 
can demonstrate what he has learned of this Science 
only so far as he has progressed in his knowledge, the 
same as would be true of music or mathematics/ 
Isn’t that fine, and sensible too? Demonstrate what 
we know! I am reminded of Portia’s saying in The 
Merchant of Venice: ‘If to do were as easy as to 
know what were good to do, chapels had been 
churches, and poor men’s cottages prince’s palaces. It 
is a good divine that follows his own instructions: 
I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, 
than be one of the twenty to follow mine own 
teaching’.” 

Their reading was soon interrupted by sounds from 
the adjoining bedroom. 

“Seems to me,” said Aunt Delia querulously, “you 
aren’t awfully anxious to heal my fractured hip. Here 
I am laid up just when you’ve come home, and the 
doctor says it may be a year before I can walk with- 


AN EVENING IN STRATFORD 133 
out a cane. Such luck! I thought when you got here 
you would be terribly anxious to convert me to your 
way of thinking, thinking pain away and all that.” 

Beatrice smiled at her husband and replied gently, 
“But you haven’t said anything about it before. You 
seemed perfectly satisfied with Dr. Smith. We never 
intrude our views, you know. When you want us to 
help you we shall be only too glad to.” 

“Well, of course I want to get rid of the pain, 
and I want to walk. That ought to be as plain as can 
be. But I don’t want to have to fall down and wor¬ 
ship any woman. Mrs. Eddy may be all right, but 
she says some awful queer things. I can’t understand 
her books. Now the Bible is as clear as daylight,” 
added Aunt Delia virtuously. “I love to read about 
‘Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white 
as snow, and though they be red as crimson, they 
shall be like wool.’ Nothing queer about that!” 

“Isn’t there?” asked Henri dropping his book to 
talk with his wife’s aunt who had eyed him rather 
suspiciously ever since his arrival. “Sins are not 
literally red, are they? neither can they ever be seen 
white as snow. You will admit that is figurative 
language. It has to be thought out to get at the inner 
meaning. What is a crimson thought?” 

“A crimson thought? How absurd!” replied Aunt 
Delia bridling. 


134 THE INNER SECRET 

“Not absurd at all. A sin is thought before it 
becomes an act, isn’t it? That is the basis of Mrs. 
Eddy’s teaching, that thought precedes all things. 
Divine thoughts are white, so to speak, and wicked 
thoughts are red, to use your simile. If you tried to 
understand what we are studying I am sure you would 
have no trouble. Shall I read something to you?” 

“I never cared much for reading aloud, thank you,” 
she replied quickly. “If you can stop this pain, now, 
that would be something worth while.” 

“If you wish me to, I will try to explain a little of 
this wonderful science to you, and you will find that 
it will alleviate the sense of pain.” 

“Sense of pain! I guess, young man, if you had 
this broken hip, you would think you had something 
more than a sense.” 

“I might not,” replied Henri calmly, “not if I rea¬ 
soned correctly. When you fall asleep what becomes 
of your broken hip? Doesn’t the sense of it fade out? 
Don’t you sometimes forget it, and go running all 
over the town to church suppers and Ladies’ Aid 
meetings? I mean in your sleep.” 

“I s’pose I do. Last night I went sleighing with 
my husband. Guess the clothes got pushed off and 
I was cold, so I took it out in dreaming of snow 
banks.” 


AN EVENING IN STRATFORD 135 

“That was a false sense, wasn’t it? You were 
really in bed, not in a sleigh. You were temporarily 
deceived, or thought incorrectly.” 

“Humph!” ejaculated Mrs. Rowe. “I found out 
where I was when I woke up, all right. I found I 
had a broken hip.” 

“Yes, your sense of the fractured hip returned and 
took possession of your mind. You then forgot the 
sense of sleighing with your husband.” 

“Young man,” she said earnestly, shaking a finger 
at him, “My hip is broken! You can ask Dr. Smith.” 

“Of course it is!” replied Henri, greatly to her sur¬ 
prise. “Your body is like my image when I stand 
before your mirror here. When I lift my arm my 
reflection lifts its arm. When I drop it so, down 
goes the arm of my image instantly. Now your 
thought, your mind, says, ‘My hip is broken,’ and in¬ 
stantly your shadow or image, which we name ‘body’ 
manifests a broken bone. The poor hip can’t help it. 
You ought to love your hip enough to change your 
mind about it. You ought to heal that break. It 
must first be healed in your mind, before it can be 
healed in your body. My image in the glass just can¬ 
not change until / change If I scowl at it, it scowls 
back. So I am going to quit scowling and smile. See 
how quickly my reflection cheers up?” 


136 THE INNER SECRET 

Mrs. Rowe laughed in spite of herself, as she 
watched Henri’s antics before the mirror. “Well, 
what shall I do,” she asked, “to cheer up this hip? It 
needs something. I am sick of lying here flat on my 
back.” 

“You can easily do as I say, if you only will. If 
you really want to heal that break you can.” Aunt 
Delia looked from Henri to Beatrice and back to 
Henri again, as though to see if they were making 
fun of her. 

“Henri will tell you just what to do, Auntie. He is 
just splendid. He made me heal myself of a horrid 
cold when I was in New York, right off quick,” put 
in Beatrice, giving her husband’s arm an affectionate 
squeeze, as she left the room to get ready to go to 
the Wednesday evening meeting at the church. 

“Out with it, young man,” said Mrs. Rowe, grimly 
determined to see this thing through to a finish, for, 
in spite of herself, she had to admit reluctantly that 
his talk so far had enlightened her a little. 

“While we are gone to church you lie here and 
think what it is holds everything in its place. What 
holds the moon up in the heavens, the sun in its 
course, what holds this house on its foundations, what 
makes the grass grow and what makes it green, while 
the clover that springs up in it is red or white? They 


AN EVENING IN STRATFORD 137 
have the same wind, air, rain and soil, yet one is red 
and the other is green. What is it that alone can do 
these things?” 

“I guess you think I am Mrs. Solomon,” returned 
Aunt Delia drily. “I have never been to theological 
schools, or to college either.” 

“You don’t have to, Aunt Delia. Your Bible says 
‘A wayfaring man though a fool need not err therein’.” 

“Well, I’m not a fool, either. There is a middle 
ground between Solomon and a half-wit. But I prom¬ 
ised to do as you wanted me to, so I’ll try. Let me 
see. What makes the clover red and the grass green 
and the moon stay up where it belongs and the sun 
not to bump into the other planets? I guess I have 
my evening’s entertainment, all right. You can go to 
church with a light heart. You have given me a job 
which will keep me from letting Satan find mischief 
for my idle mind. Could you give me a slight hint to 
start out with?” 

Henri laughed. “What is it furnished this room?” 
and with this enigmatical remark, he joined his wife 
at the door. 

“That Frenchman isn’t so slow as he might be. If 
anyone takes him for a numbskull, they’ll get good and 
left!” muttered Aunt Delia to the cat which jumped 
up on the bed to keep her company. 


138 THE INNER SECRET 

“Aunt Delia is such an old dear,” said Beatrice as 
they walked along through the soft spring night. 
“She is sometimes sharp and caustic, but the thorns 
are all on the outside. She is like velvet inside,— 
this I know. Uncle Andrew Rowe married my 
mother’s sister, the two Rowe boys chose two sisters 
for their wives. My aunt Mary was Uncle Andrew’s 
first wife. She only lived a few years. Then Uncle 
Andrew, who was a minister you know, went South 
as a Home Mission worker and caught the yellow 
fever. It didn’t really develop until he got back to 
Stratford. Everyone was afraid to take care of him, 
and there was no hospital near. So Miss Delia Blunt 
offered to nurse him. She said she was alone in the 
world and it didn’t matter if she took the fever and 
died. No one would really care. So with this spirit 
of recklessness she came to this very house and pulled 
Uncle Andrew through. He never was very strong 
after that, and she stayed right here, looking out for 
him in every way, for he grew feeble and dependent. 
In the meantime, my parents had died, and as I was 
only fifteen I came to live with Uncle Andrew. He 
was very desirous that I should go to college, but I 
didn’t want to leave him alone. So one day I said 
if he would only marry Delia, so she wouldn’t ever 
leave him, I would go. He smiled and said he had 


AN EVENING IN STRATFORD 139 
often thought of it. A week later he told me he had 
at last persuaded Delia to be my aunt, and I know 
this,—she has been the best aunt a girl ever had.” 

“I find her very interesting, Beatrice, quite a char¬ 
acter. And if she will take hold of the study of Sci¬ 
ence she can do wonders. I like her.” 

They had neared the church building and, as there 
were but two or three persons in the audience room, 
Beatrice proposed that they step into the wing of the 
building where the reading room was located, and 
have another look at the old edition of Science and 
Health. But it was not to be found. It was not in 
the room, nor in the closet. “How very strange!” 
said Beatrice. “Perhaps that Mrs. Grey borrowed it 
to take home. She seemed interested.” So, having 
settled the matter to her satisfaction, she and Henri re¬ 
entered the church and found the First Reader an¬ 
nouncing the opening hymn. It was one of Cowper’s: 
“The Spirit breathes upon the word, 

And brings the truth to sight; 

Precepts and promises afford 
A sanctifying light.” 

It seemed to Beatrice that she had never seen the 
truth so clearly, nor felt the Spirit of the word so 
deeply as when she joined in the hymn. She had 
prepared a little testimony to give, and she was hoping 


140 THE INNER SECRET 

that Henri would speak also. The meeting was brisk 
and interesting, and when Beatrice finally rose to her 
feet it was near closing time. She expressed her 
great gratitude for the growing light she had, for the 
seekers who had written down their findings on the 
great subject of Life and Truth, and told of the added 
spirit of the Word she had gained since her arrival 
on the home shores. It was a good little speech and 
she sat down very happy. As soon as the closing 
hymn was sung she turned around and found that 
Mrs. Cartwright had been sitting immediately be¬ 
hind her. Here was her opportunity to ask for the 
book she wished to borrow. So she began at once, 
“Mrs. Cartwright, may I ask what has become of the 
old copy of Science and Health which was in the 
reading room a few days ago? I would like very 
much to borrow it. Or has Mrs. Grey taken it to 
study ?” 

“No indeed. I have taken it out of the reading 
room. It will not be there again. You know Mrs. 
Eddy didn’t stand for those early editions of Science 
and Health. She—” 

“What!” exclaimed Beatrice, too shocked to say 
more. 

“No. She says plainly in ‘Miscellany’ what she 
thinks of them. They are not to be studied. In fact, 


AN EVENING IN STRATFORD 141 
they are no longer considered Christian Science lit¬ 
erature, and because of this they should not be kept 
in the reading rooms.” 

“She did nothing of the kind,” asserted Beatrice pos¬ 
itively. “She speaks somewhere about her early writ¬ 
ings not being considered a precedent for a present 
student of this science. I don’t know as I have quoted 
her exactly. But that is the gist of it.” 

“I can’t help what you say. We are not to study 
those early editions.” 

“Why not?” put in Henri coolly. “Didn’t Mrs. 
Eddy know what she meant when she first wrote the 
book? If not, how can we tell that she ever under¬ 
stood Christian Science.” 

Mrs. Cartwright smiled knowingly. “I know what 
you mean. Those are the arguments a certain school 
of mental scientists are putting out. I have heard of 
your conversion to a new style Science so-called,” she 
added turning back to Beatrice. “Mrs. Eddy con¬ 
stantly grew, and she revised the text-book accord¬ 
ingly, from time to time. No one now takes the 
original volume as the standard.” 

Beatrice was too astonished to speak. Her thoughts 
seemed confused, but Henri was enjoying it. “But, 
Mrs. Cartwright,” he persisted, “If the divine Mind 
dictated to Mrs. Eddy the original book, if, as she 


142 THE INNER SECRET 

says, she would blush to speak of it thus, were she 
apart from God its author, if this is true, why did she 
change a word of it? God’s word of Truth does not 
change. Mathematics does not change a tiny fraction.” 

“This is no place to discuss these radical views, good 
friends. I shall be in charge of the reading room 
tomorrow, and if you care to come in about three, 
and there are no other visitors, I shall be glad to talk 
this matter out thoroughly. It is very important. 
And about these other authors who presume to write 
on this great subject,—it is just their own egotism 
cropping out. They, too, must write a book. Truly, 
of the making of books there is no end.” 

“Gracious!” exclaimed Beatrice almost involun¬ 
tarily. “What about Mrs. Eddy then? That saying 
about making many books was written by Solomon, 
I believe. It might apply to all the writers since his 
time. I can’t see the point of your argument, Mrs. 
Cartwright, but we will surely come in to see you 
tomorrow.” “Au revoir, then,” added Henri, as Mrs. 
Cartwright bowed herself down the aisle. 

“Did Mr. Malcolm say anything like this to you, 
Henri?” asked his wife as they strolled homeward, 
pondering the conversation. 

“He told me we might encounter something like 
this. He said various patients had told him of similar 


AN EVENING IN STRATFORD 143 
experiences they had had. I can’t get the idea. If 
the book was divinely inspired—explain that term as 
you will—it cannot now be wrong in basic principle. 
We must look the matter up more thoroughly before 
three tomorrow.” 

When they reached the house Mrs. Rowe was 
peacefully sleeping, the cat curled up at her feet. 
There seemed to be an atmosphere of serenity about 
the place that touched Beatrice. “It seems good to get 
back to dear Aunt Delia,” she whispered to Henri, 
“she is so good and true.” 

“She is an honest thinker, anyway. She will ad¬ 
mit it if she finds she is in the wrong. I wonder how 
she got along solving the questions I gave her. I will 
guarantee she has an answer ready for us in the 
morning.” 

“I am curious to hear it,” replied his wife with a 
little laugh. “It will be honest and original.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

Clover. 

Mrs. Rowe had the best night’s sleep she had had 
since her fall, and her first thoughts upon waking were 
in regard to the talk with Henri the evening before. 
“He certainly set me a task to answer those questions, 
but I’m ready for him. You can’t catch a Yankee 
asleep!” so when they had all breakfasted, Beatrice 
told her aunt that she was going into the attic to look 
over some boxes of magazines she had put up there 
when she went to Europe, and would leave Henri with 
her to solve the riddle of the universe. 

“After you had been gone a few minutes last night,” 
began Mrs. Rowe, “the nurse came back and I asked 
her to get me Tennyson’s poems. You may think it 
strange, but I am a great reader of the poets. I told 
her to read me his little poem called ‘The “How” and 
The “Why”.’ Do you know it? It says this: 

‘We laugh, we cry, we are born, we die. 

Who will riddle me the how and the why? * * * * 
Why deep is not high, and high is not deep ? 

Whether we wake, or whether we sleep ? 

Whether we sleep, or whether we die? 

How you are you ? why I am I ? 


144 


CLOVER 145 

Who will riddle me the how and the why? 

* * * * * 

I feel there is something: but how and what? 

I know there is somewhat: but what and why ? 

I cannot tell if that somewhat be 1/ 

That was about my state of mind when you left me. 
But I got busy and put on my thinking cap. The last 
thing you said was, ‘What is it furnished this room?’ 
and my first answer was ‘Money.’ And then I went 
on thinking and I saw how foolish that was. There 
might be a cart-load of hundred dollar bills piled in 
a room and it would never furnish it. So I cast that 
aside. Then I decided it was a person that furnished 
the room, but that answer wouldn’t fit the other ques¬ 
tions about the moon and clover, so I cast that aside. 
Then I decided it was the Lord, but then I reasoned it 
wasn’t the Lord that furnished this room, for I did 
it myself. So I was stuck again, and cast that aside. 
I had quite a heap of things in the discard before I 
got through.” She paused, and Henri watched her 
keenly. “I remembered what the Scriptures say about 
who is it guides Arcturus and his sons and does some¬ 
thing to the Pleiades, and I decided it was the same as 
who or what it was that kept the moon in place and 
made the clover sweet and red, while the leaves were 
green. I figured it all out, and I see it must be some- 


146 THE INNER SECRET 

thing that is everywhere present, all-powerful, in¬ 
telligent and kind.” 

“Yes?” said Henri encouragingly. “Go on, you 
are doing finely.” 

“So I decided that it must be—it must be—life!” 

“Good. Capital! returned Henri. “I am in a 
hurry to tell Beatrice what a thinker you are. Most 
orthodox people would have said ‘God,’ and let it 
go at that. They don’t stop to think out what God 
must be.” 

“I’ve often noticed that. They make Him out al¬ 
most a monster sometimes. They blame all the hur¬ 
ricanes and bolts of lightning and wars and diseases 
on Him. I’ve often said to our pastor ‘What do they 
leave for the devil to do if God does all those awful 
things?’ So I know God isn’t variable, nor cruel, for 
I wouldn’t be, and I know God is a thousand times 
kinder than I am.” 

“I am glad you have settled that, Aunt Delia. Life 
is a word denoting God, and there is another word 
which shows another side to God I want you to think 
of. What is it that thinks?” 

“The brain, of course.” 

“What?” questioned Henri as though astonished. 
“The brain think? How about the brain of a corpse?” 
Mrs. Rowe thought in silence for a few minutes, then 


CLOVER 147 

remarked, “Well, my old brain is getting a turning 
over such as it hasn’t had in one while. I never did 
so much solid thinking in my life.” 

“You spoke correctly that time,” replied Henri. 
“You said 'I never did so much thinking.’ That is 
absolutely correct. It is you that thinks, not your 
brain. You are invisible, you are consciousness, mind, 
and that is what thinks. You are a thinker. That 
makes you different from a chair. So it was mind 
that furnished this room, that planned the furnish¬ 
ings, bought them, and arranged them. It is mind, 
the great Mind, Nature, God, that holds the moon 
in place, that guides Arcturus and its sons and bring- 
eth forth Mazzaroth in its season. It is Mind that 
makes the little clover select from the soil what it 
needs to make it red, and to absorb from the sun’s 
rays its tonic. It is Mind that we taste in the grape 
and the peach, it is mind with which we do the tasting. 
How about your hip ?” 

“Ay, there’s the rub!” exclaimed Aunt Delia 
quickly. “I couldn’t seem to hitch up my hip with the 
rest of my argument. How am I going to cure that? 
Although I will admit I got so interested in puzzling 
out these riddles I forgot my hip, I lost the sense of it, 
I s’pose you would say,—and I fell asleep thinking 
about the great life that was taking care of me, of 


148 THE INNER SECRET 

the moon and the clover and me. This morning first 
thing, I sent the nurse out doors to fetch me in a 
bouquet of clover, and there it is where I can look at 
it. She thought she must have misunderstood me, 
and that I wanted clematis, or phlox or something, 
but I said, ‘No, clover, C-L-O-V-E-R, clover.” 

“It is mind, your mind that you use to think about 
your hip at all. Then why not think rightly about it? 
Your body is the mirror of your thought-conclusions. 
It registers sooner or later your deep, positive, private, 
intimate sense you have about yourself, that sense 
you never let anyone else know, except as they learn to 
read the human countenance. So heal your thinking. 
Know that the same great mental force which hung 
the moon in the heavens, will care for you. That the 
same infinite pains and care displayed in each tiny 
clover petal will knit together each particle of your 
hip perfectly and quickly. The doctor admits that 
nature really does the healing, but what he doesn’t 
admit is that ALL IS MIND. Even your body is 
mentality in another form. You know water can be 
converted into steam or into ice. So mentality has 
three forms or, rather, three states, mind, active 
thought, and conclusion or understanding. Your con¬ 
clusions arrived at are projected as your very image 
and likeness. So get busy and see yourself as mind, 


CLOVER 149 

as life, unbroken and unhurt. Does this seem impos¬ 
sible? It isn’t, for thousands are doing it. Stick to 
perfection! Insist upon it. The principle underlying 
the universe, the ‘What and the Why,’ must be per¬ 
fection, and as we learn this and appropriate the truth 
of it, we shall see it. The little clover and the majestic 
sun are alike mind in varied forms. Now I think you 
have enough to think of and I will leave you.” 

“Hold on a minute. I want to ask you another 
question. I thought you Christian Scientists didn’t 
admit any such things as broken bones and diseases, 
yet you admitted a few minutes ago that, or was it 
last night?—that my hip was fractured. How do you 
account for that?” 

Henri smiled as he saw that Mrs. Rowe was no 
superficial thinker and wanted to get at the bottom of 
every subject, so he seated himself again, and was 
silent a moment trying to decide how best to answer 
her. 

“Have I caught you that time?” she laughed. 

“Np, I was only thinking how to make it clear to 
you. When you were a child in school, you some¬ 
times saw a scholar write on the blackboard 2 times 
2 are 5 . But because you saw this in black and white 
did not make it true or eternal. When the teacher 
explained the truth about 2 times 2 and the pupil saw 


150 THE INNER SECRET 

it, he re-wrote the answer, didn’t he? and the teacher 
let it stand because it was a true or perfect answer. 
So when we reckon wrongly about our lives or our 
bodies, and think that wet feet means a consequent 
cold and possibly pneumonia, we are working wrongly, 
but if we persist in thinking it, in believing it, we will 
image it forth as the answer, a wrong one, but one 
which as long as we keep believing it, will cause us a 
lot of trouble. It is no more true, that is, eternal or 
real than the school boy’s mistake. And when we 
learn to think rightly, viz.: that mentality alone is 
cause, that water has no intelligence to enter through 
the pores of our feet and create a fever and inflamma¬ 
tion, that only our own thought about it, or false 
training, can do it, then we get a correct answer 
if we cast out the wrong picture and know that health 
is the normal, rightful state of mind, and that it is ours 
right now. You are looking on the blackboard and 
seeing a fractured hip. If I were you I would do 
better than that. I would know that I, myself, my 
soul, mind and body, the ego, is perfect and spiritual, 
so I might as well be enjoying myself. You know the 
great Shakespeare said, ‘There is nothing either good 
or bad, but thinking makes it so.’ Mrs Eddy has that 
quotation on the flyleaf of her book, Science and 
Health. Remember, thought is causative!” 


CLOVER 151 

“Well, Henri, I will give you a rest now. I want 
to think over these things. An old dog can’t learn 
new tricks very easily. My hip isn’t so painful today. 
I have lots more questions to ask. You seem to know 
what you are talking about, so I’ll have another list 
ready tomorrow.” 

Henri found Beatrice at the telephone and heard 
her say, “Oh, is that you, Mrs. Cartwright? * * * * * 
Yes, indeed we are coming. ***** Qh, no. I 
won’t bring any other literature to the reading room. 
I wouldn’t do that. My defence will be based entirely 
on the books you have there. We will see you at 
three then. Good by.” 

“Are you ready for her, petite?” asked her husband. 
“Did you find the things you were looking for?” 

“Yes, my file of Journals is complete. I am all 
ready. How did you get on with Aunt Delia ?” 

“Finely. Come out for a breath of air in the 
garden and let me tell you about it. She is a good 
thinker, that woman. She has lots more questions, 
but they will wait until tomorrow she says. She gives 
one absolute attention and I could see she was digest¬ 
ing every word. Reason is the very best weapon we 
have. It appeals to nearly everyone.” 

“See the lovely clover, Henri! I shall always think 
of our talk with Aunt Delia last night, when I see 
clover hereafter. It is so sweet and humble.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

Mrs. Fox Gets Busy. 

The morning after the two Russians had paid 
their visit to the Potter home, Mrs. Fox answered her 
telephone call and found it was Rose who was calling 
her rather excitedly. 

“Can you come right up here, please ? I have some¬ 
thing to tell you, and to show you, too. It is very 
important—about Nicholas. I can hardly believe it 
is possible! And I have you to thank, for it was you 
who introduced me to Mr. Malcolm, and without his 
work and instruction I am sure I should never have 
heard even this much.” 

It did not take Sallie Fox long to reach the Potter 
residence, and the next hour was spent in listening to 
Rose’s recital of the happenings of the night before. 
Mrs. Fox proved to be as eager a listener and as sym¬ 
pathetic a friend as Rose could wish for. “Now,” 
Rose said, “I am coming to the part where I need 
your help. You will notice this conglomeration of 
notes at the bottom of the song. I sat up till two this 
morning unraveling the mystery, for I felt sure there 
was a message locked up in it, and if I could only get 
at the inner meaning I should know where he was a 


152 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 153 

year ago, or at least, something more definite than 
just the words of the song. I think I could not have 
done it if I had not had the understanding which you 
were the means of my getting through Mr. Walter’s 
books. I just knew there were no limits to Intelli¬ 
gence, and that I (my mind), am a particle of that 
intelligent Substance, so all I had to do was to claim 
it and use it. You know, Mrs. Fox, mortals, mortals, 
are to claim no other mind but God. So after my pre¬ 
liminary reasoning and mental work I took pencil and 
paper and began the task. I had to keep saying to 
myself, Tt is just as clear as daylight, for intelligence 
conceived it, and intelligence can see the code or key 
to it.’ I kept at it, but for the first hour I didn’t seem 
to get ahead any. I thought how much Mr. Walter 
says about persistence and single-mindedness. Then I 
noticed some naturals in the second measure, and al¬ 
most unthinkingly I wrote them down, letter for let¬ 
ter, d-e-a-. What did that spell ? Then I saw at once 
it was ‘dead’ or 'dear.’ But it could not be the former, 
for if he were dead he couldn’t be writing to me, and 
no one else would bother to send me a message if he 
had told them to in case of his death; so I decided 
it must be ‘dear,’ and with that as a clue I set to work, 
and this is the result. I put down the letters of the 
notes as they come on the staff: 


154 THE INNER SECRET 

a b c d e f g. Then under them I wrote, h i j k 1 m 
n. These I called flats. A-flat. b-flat, etc. Then: 
o p q r s t u which must be sharps, a-sharp, b-sharp, 
c-sharp, and so on. With that as a key I easily spelled 
out the message.” 

“You blessed girl!” exclaimed Mrs. Fox impul¬ 
sively, clapping her hands. “Hurry and read it to me. 
I am so excited!” 

Rose looked sober as she replied, “It is awful. 
Nothing encouraging at all. You see it was written 
over a year ago, before Michael Tschikonoff escaped 
from Russia. Anything may have happened since 
then.” 

“You ungrateful individual!” exclaimed Mrs. Fox, 
giving her a little shake. “Here, a few weeks ago, you 
were bursting with sorrow because your Nicholas 
was dead, and you would never know even how he 
died. You felt that all your hours of Christian Sci¬ 
ence work had been in vain. Now, now , you know he 
was alive a year ago and thinking of you, raining 
down songs on you via the moonlight, and you talk 
about being discouraged!” 

Rose smiled at Mrs. Fox’s disgusted tone, and said 
quickly, “You are right. I am ashamed of myself. 
Here is the message: ‘Rose dear, I am in the prison 
of Cheka. Not quite lost hope’.” 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 155 

“Oh, Oh! how wonderful! To think that that 
string of sharps and flats should mean a prison!” 

“Yes, where is Cheka? Ralph hasn’t the faintest 
idea, and neither have I. I suppose it is an insignificant 
village in that enormous country. I want you to help 
me to locate it. We must hurry too. Every day must 
seem a year to him.” 

“Perhaps not. He may be well out of there by 
this time. But—” 

“But where are you going?” exclaimed Rose as her 
guest jumped up and reached for her hat and gloves. 

“I am going to find Willard Fox just as soon as I 
can. He knows a lot about Russia, and he also has 
an intimate friend in Congress, a Californian, whom 
he can call up, and get to start an investigation. I be¬ 
lieve that is what they call it, when they decide to look 
in to a matter. It usually amounts to just a lot of 
money spent and not a thing accomplished. But this 
time that won’t work, for they will have the female of 
the species hot on their trail, if they refer it to a Com¬ 
mittee. And you know we have good authority for 
saying that they are ‘more deadly than the male’.” 

Rose laughed in spite of her anxiety, and said, 
“Between Kipling and Rubinstein and the two Foxes, 
Nicholas ought to be rescued easily.” 

“To say nothing of the two Roses and the moon- 


156 THE INNER SECRET 

light. That makes me think of something Monsieur 
Rochelle said one evening he dined with us. He said 
they can now put out a fire with a certain sound. So 
if that is what can be done already, who knows how 
soon we can see sounds and hear light. It wouldn t 
surprise me in the least.” 

“Haven’t I seen they are attempting it already ? It 
is a mere matter of wave lengths. Did you say your 
husband will call up his friend in Washington?” 

“If he won’t, here is one who will! I am a woman 
of action, and I am going to see that young man out 
of Chequita, or whatever it is, before I go back to the 
Coast—if it takes all summer!” 

While Mrs. Fox had been talking rapidly and ad¬ 
justing her hat, Rose, too, had put on her wraps to 
accompany her. She put the song in her hand bag, for 
she could not bear it out of her presence, and they set 
out on their crusade to take the first steps in Nicholas’ 
rescue. 

But Mrs. Fox did not have to call up Washington 
on the wire, for, as soon as Willard Fox heard the 
message read, he stepped to the telephone and called a 
business house which had dealt with Russian firms 
before the war, and asked for Mr. Jones. In five 
minutes he had the information that Cheka was really 
“The Cheka,” a certain prison in Moscow, kept for 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 157 

prisoners of a special class, those who were arrested 
for espionage, or upon a charge of counter-revolution. 
“It is a pretty bad place I judge,” he said as he turned 
back to his wife and Rose. “Now for Washington, 
and my Congressional friend.” This gentleman 
promised to take all steps necessary to start the heavy 
government machinery in motion, “And keep it mov¬ 
ing after it gets started,” urged Mr. Fox. “It may 
be a matter of life and death.” 

“Of course,” he added to Rose as he turned from 
the instrument, “I know now that you and Mr. Mal¬ 
colm are working for him, that it isn’t literally a 
matter of life and death,” for he saw Rose’s face 
change at the word “death.” “But from my friend’s 
viewpoint, that would be true, and it will hurry him 
up. Now let’s all go up and see Mr. Malcolm. I am 
eager for an excuse to go and see him, aren’t you? 
I always feel so uplifted and sure of myself and of 
truth after I have been to see him.” The two ladies 
were as desirous of going as he, and they soon found 
themselves in the elevator of his building, and as they 
shot up past the floor where the reading room was, 
Willard Fox said with a smile, “What a chain of 
consequences my going in there to buy a Quarterly 
that day has had! We have gotten acquainted with 
Mr. Malcolm, with you, Miss Northup, with Mr. 
and Mrs. Rochelle and Mr. Walter.” 


158 


THE INNER SECRET 

“To say nothing of Nicholas!” put in his wne, and 
Rose added, “And my two East Side Russians with 
all they mean to me. Isn’t it wonderful, wonderful! 
You certainly did more than reflect intelligence, Mr. 
Fox, that day. You just—you—just —were It.” 

Mr. Malcolm was busy and they sat down to wait. 
Another lady was by the window and they noticed 
she had been crying. At length Sallie Fox could 
stand it no longer, so she walked over and began talk¬ 
ing about the fine view from this eighth floor window. 
“But it is not to be compared to the view of Truth 
we get when talking with Mr. Malcolm, is it ?” and 
she smiled down at the sorrowing one so genially that 
there was an answering, flickering, wisp of a smile 
shone out for a minute, as the woman answered, “Do 
you think so? I am glad to hear you say so. I 
have never seen him I was recommended to come 
here by some one he cured of chronic headaches. I 
know nothing of his methods. Does he hypnotize 
you, or what?” 

“I should say not! Hypnotism is as far removed 
from Christian Science as the poles. What made you 
think that?” 

“T just don’t know. What does he do?” 

“He treats you mentally and talks to you.” The 
woman looked perplexed. “He prays for you, my 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 159 

dear.” A look of discouragement settled down over 
the sufferer’s face as she replied. “Oh, is that it? 
I am afraid, then, it won’t do me any good. For I 
have prayed and prayed for years, and so has my 
husband, who is a clergyman. We have prayed and 
besought God to heal me, but He hasn’t. Oh why 
doesn’t God answer prayer now the same as in Jesus’ 
time! I cannot understand it. It is such a mystery.” 

“No mystery at all,” returned Mrs. Fox promptly. 
“We just haven’t understood God. That is the whole 
trouble. We, you and I, have thought of Him as an 
elderly man with a long gray beard possibly, seated on 
a literal throne. We besought His favor, as people 
beseech rich men or kings. That never got us very 
far when we really needed help. And you know the 
Bible states positively that He is a very present help in 
time of trouble. So,” went on Mrs. Fox earnestly 
as she noted the gleam of interest creeping in to the 
listener’s expression, “if we don’t get this help which 
is Very present.’ not only present but very present, 
there is something the matter, isn’t there? If we 
rented a house wired for elecricity, if we saw the 
fixtures in place, and when it got dusky we pressed 
the switchbutton and no light came, we would know 
something was wrong in the connection somewhere. 
We would know it wasn’t the fault of electricity, for 


160 THE INNER SECRET 

that always works according to a fixed principle. 

If when it got black, black dark—” 

“That is my case right now,” put in the woman. 

“If, then, we still could not get a spark of light, we 
should recall the fact that in the last house we oc¬ 
cupied we had no difficulty in getting all the light we 
wished at an instant’s notice. So with us now; let us 
call to mind the great fact that Jesus did get the con¬ 
nection he wanted instantly, he healed the sick, the 
dying and even raised the dead; he healed great mul¬ 
titudes which thronged him, with a word. Let’s take 
courage in remembering that what has been done can 
be repeated.” 

“I see your point,” returned the other, “but Jesus 
was different, he was divine, he was Deity itself.” 

“Peter, James and John, and many later ones who 
were not even taught personally by Jesus, did the 
same works. Paul even raised the dead, and escaped 
from prison in a marvelous manner.” 

“Yes, of course, but that was the age of miracles.” 

“Yes, and so is this. This is the age of rebellion 
against the soporific argument that what has been 
done by human beings cannot be done again.” 

“But,” persisted the clergyman’s wife, “you refer 
to modern scientific marvels, such as the wireless and 
aeronautics and so on. I am speaking of spiritual 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 161 

miracles. God’s direct intervention or setting aside 
of natural laws. That isn’t done now.” 

“My dear woman,” said Sallie Fox earnestly, “does 
the electrician set aside any real laws of darkness 
when he illuminates our houses with light? Did 
Jesus set aside his Father’s law of death when he 
healed the little daughter of Jairus and restored her 
to her mother? Jesus said plainly that he always did 
the will of his Father. Jesus would not and did not 
set aside any real law. He unfolded, appealed to, or 
utilized the only laws there are,—the laws of God, 
Good, which always heal and save, and never curse 
and kill. If God’s laws were destructive, this old 
earth would not have lasted these thousands of years. 
No, no. That is just what I said at first, we haven’t 
understood God and His laws. The Bible says His 
work is perfect, also that ‘God saw everything that 
He had made and, behold, it was very good.’ Your 
trouble is like the darkness. It will vanish when the 
light is turned on in your mind. You know there is 
a true Light which ‘lighteth every man that cometh 
into the world.’ ‘God is light’ we are told by John. 
Mental light is wisdom or understanding. So our 
darkness (troubles) have been the natural result of 
the absence of light, or understanding in our think¬ 
ing. Oh, Mr. Malcolm will make this all clear to 


162 THE INNER SECRET 

you. He is wonderfully clear in his explanations. 
Don’t worry because you cannot understand the whole 
of metaphysics at once. You don’t grasp any subject 
in an hour or a day.” 

“Metaphysics!” said the stranger thoughtfully. “Is 
that what you call your theory?” Mrs. Fox smiled 
at the last word, as she replied, “Is physics a theory? 
That is, do you regard it as such?” 

“No indeed. Physics has been reduced to a 
science.” 

“So has metaphysics. It is not a theory, unproved 
and untried.” 

“But I am afraid of the word,” went on the other, 
looking off into space. “It sounds so vague, and so— 
so unmoral some way! Not immoral, but unmoral. 
And then too, it does away with the atonement, 
doesn’t it?” 

“Not when you understand what metaphysics and 
atonement really mean. The idea of transferring 
guilt to an innocent person from a guilty one is fast 
being left behind. It is never done in courts of 
justice, in fact, it cannot be done. Guilt itself 
is not transferrable. The Psalms say, ‘Sacrifice 
and offering thou didst not desire. Burnt of¬ 
fering and sin offering hast thou not required.’ And 
Jesus quoted from Hosea, ‘For I desired mercy and 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 163 

not sacrifice; and the knowledge of God more than 
burnt offerings/ Anyway the word 'atonement’ oc¬ 
curs only once in the New Testament, and that is in 
Paul’s letter to the Romans, fifth chapter and eleventh 
verse. And that word in the Greek simply means 're¬ 
conciliation’ or ‘through change.’ It is so re¬ 
ferred to in the margin of the King James version, 
and so translated in the Revised Version, which is so 
much more accurate a translation of old Hebrew and 
Greek texts. Of course, you know, the Bible wasn’t 
written in English or German or French or any other 
modern tongue. It was written in the languages of 
the times, Hebrew and Old Greek. These were in 
turn copied laboriously by hand from these texts into 
Old Latin, Syriac, etc. The monks of the middle ages 
preserved the manuscripts for us, for they were the 
learned class, and copied and recopied them. Can’t 
you see that the only way to get at the inner meaning 
of the Scriptures is to go back to the original manu¬ 
scripts, as best we can, for of course we have only 
copies of those. The men who made up our Bible 
selected a bit here and a bit there from the many 
manuscripts they had. This is a matter of history. 
Your husband must know this. I had a patient re¬ 
cently at my home who was disturbed about these 
things and so I looked into the matter pretty 


164 THE INNER SECRET 

thoroughly. But, my dear, the letter of the Bible is 
not sufficient. We must have the spirit, the real es¬ 
sence of the thought underlying the words. This is 
what heals. Jesus taught that God is our Father as 
well as His Father, that to know God is eternal life, 
so let’s stick to what he says, and try to know God. 
We must interpret Paul through Jesus, and not Jesus 
through what Paul said. In regard to the healings 
Jesus performed, he plainly said, ‘He that believeth on 
me, the works that I do, he shall do also, and greater 
works than these shall he do, because I go unto my 
Father.’ Again he said, ‘And these signs shall follow 
them that believe; In my name shall they cast out 
devils; ***** They shall take up serpents; and 
if they shall drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt 
them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall 
recover.’ David says of God, ‘Who forgiveth all 
thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who re- 
deemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee 
with loving-kindness and tender mercies; Who satis- 
fieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth 
is renewed like the eagles.’ Does that sound like an 
angry God who needs placating?” She paused and 
looked searchingly at the other woman, who smiled 
wistfully and said, “I wish I could believe as you do. 
God seems more lovable, doesn’t He? But there are 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 165 

those places is Isaiah, you know, about 'with his 
stripes we are healed’.” 

“Yes, I know. He met all forms of error for us, 
that is, through his experiences and demonstrations 
we have learned the way. ‘Yet we did esteem him 
stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted/ If we had 
the correct sense of his life and teachings and did 
not charge God with what he suffered, by his stripes 
we would be healed. Healing is what you are looking 
for, and let me tell you that you have come to the right 
place. Mr. Malcolm can tell you many things in a 
few minutes which will clear matters up for you.” 

The woman looked far off into the blue sky, and 
then said as she extended her hand impulsively, “You 
are so good to take an interest in me, a perfect 
stranger. And you have already given me some light. 
I had a very vague idea of God and of Jesus’ mission 
and teaching. I hope I can find relief in this meta¬ 
physical understanding you speak of, for I need help. 
I have a—a—malignant growth.” 

The tears choked any further words, and Mrs. Fox 
replied quickly, ‘What of that? Our wrong thinking 
based on fears and false training, makes those things 
grow. Now if this is true, and it is, right thinking 
can and will make them un-grow, or disappear. They 
wouldn’t grow or develop where there was no life 


166 THE INNER SECRET 

or mind, so we see that fear and rules laid down by 
observing doctors having control of our thinking are 
the cause of such unnatural, unreal phenomena.” 

“Do you think so? I have noticed that after each 
doctor’s pronouncement, I would suffer more. I de¬ 
cided I wouldn’t give up without trying what it is 
Mr. Malcolm has to offer.” 

“Well, don’t let your theory of vicarious suffering 
stand in your way. Do as he says and, I can assure 
you, you will get results. Remember God healeth all 
your diseases.” 

The inner door opened and Mr. Malcolm appeared 
saying smilingly, “Who next?” 

Sallie Fox was the first to answer, “I have decided 
I won’t take up your time today, when you have 
someone here who needs you so badly. Come, Wil¬ 
lard, let’s go back to the hotel. Mr. Malcolm has im¬ 
portant work to do.” 

Rose Northup arose and said, “I am perfectly will¬ 
ing to go too. If I may just show Mr. Malcolm the 
meaning of Nicholas’ hidden message to me. It will 
only take a minute,” and she handed him a slip of 
paper on which was written, ‘Rose dear, I am in the 
prison of Cheka. Not quite lost hope.” 

Mr. Malcolm read it, then said, “And now we must 
know that mind cannot be imprisoned by seeming 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 167 

material things, such as brick and stone. Mind is 
always free. Peter and Paul proved it, and so can 
we. The Israelites of old laid low the walls of Jerico 
through spiritual means alone. Daniel was in a worse 
plight than Nicholas Louma, but he survived and 
escaped. Call to mind these instances, and study to 
see how they accomplished their deliverance.. . . 
What has been done, can be done again.” As Mr. 
Malcolm said this, the stranger smiled significantly to 
Mrs. Fox and said, “I feel better already. And if 
other people have been healed, it can be done again, 
in my case.” 

“You gave that lady quite a sermonette, Sallie,” 
said her husband as they went down in the elevator. 
“Good for you. You come of preaching stock. They 
can’t get the best of you with their doctrines. Of 
course, Miss Northup and I were too polite to listen, 
but I heard you throw in a few Greek and Hebrew 
verbs!” “Stop your teasing, Willard Fox,” she ex¬ 
claimed. “That lady was cherishing to her heart a 
very false belief about theology and also about her 
body. She needed help as badly as this little girl here, 
that I found in the uptown reading room a few weeks 
ago,” and she gave Rose’s arm an affectionate pat. 
“I’ll tell you what let us do! Let’s go to the public 
library and read the First Edition of Science and 
Health. Will you come, Miss Northup?” 


168 THE INNER SECRET 

But Rose shook her head. She must be alone to 
think, think. To work for Nicholas’ release. As she 
hurried home she pondered long on the marvelous 
rescues spoken of by Mr. Malcolm. “And I have the 
same Power they had.” 

The next day was Sunday and, in the morning, 
Mr. Malcolm telephoned Rose and proposed that she 
go with him to the lower East Side to call on the two 
Russians who had brought her the song. “They cer¬ 
tainly deserve to be notified that you have deciphered 
the code message,” he said. “Perhaps, too, they can 
tell us some more about The Cheka.” Rose was de¬ 
lighted and replied that she and Sallie Fox had 
planned to go that very afternoon. They had thought 
of asking him to accompany them, but had decided he 
would be too busy. So it was arranged that Mrs. Fox 
and Rose would call at his office at three, when they 
would all explore the neighborhood of Grand Street. 

They found him busily poring over a copy of The 
Christian Science Sentinel, and, after hastily greeting 
them, he said, “Look here! I came across this paper 
of the date of February 2 , 1918 , containing an article 
on ‘Life’ by Mrs. Eddy. I sat down to read it over, 
thinking I might find a new thought to give to the 
Russian Rose who is grieving over the loss of her 
husband, and I did. But first, I want to call your 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 169 

attention to a few things. There is first the Editor’s 
note, which says the manuscript of this sermon was 
prepared by Mrs. Eddy over thirty-five years ago, 
‘hence its literary style differs somewhat from that of 
her later writings.’ The editor calls it an ‘important 
statement’ and admits that ‘in order to preserve to 
the fullest extent’ its ‘power and originality,’ ‘the 
text of the original manuscript is printed below ex¬ 
actly as written.’ Then he makes the following sig¬ 
nificant exception to the above statement, ‘Punctua¬ 
tion has been added, Scriptural references verified, 
and capitalization made in accordance with Mrs. 
Eddy’s rules.’ When you read the article if you will 
omit these same interpolated capitals and get the sense 
the author had when she wrote it, you will catch her 
meaning much more easily.” 

Mrs. Fox scanned the article quickly, reading aloud 
a sentence here and there. “Listen to this: ‘Every¬ 
thing we touch or see is but the shape and color of a 
thought that lies behind. We learn in metaphysics 
that life is in the thought instead of the thing it has 
expressed, and that this thought hath immortality 
only in proportion to its correctness.’ And this: ‘The 
side of nature which seems to the senses matter is but 
the veil that hides the reality of being; the visible 
universe is but the picture of the mind’s ideas, the 


170 THE INNER SECRET 

expression of thoughts, the hieroglyphic record of the 
art and meditation of Deity.’ Isn’t that clear! And 
she wrote this thirty-five years ago!” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Malcolm, “thirty-five years ago. 
And you will notice she says plainly, in reply to the 
question, Shall we know each other there? (after 
death), ‘Since ever we investigated metaphysics and 
traversed in freedom the realm of Mind, we have 
been careful not to overrate our discoveries, or to 
state what we had not first understood.’ That does 
away with the notion, advanced in some quarters, 
that she did not understand metaphysics or Christian 
Science correctly when she first wrote Science and 
Health and published it in 1875 . She says here she 
was careful not to state what she had not first under¬ 
stood. But let us be going, I will take this paper with 
me and if a way is opened I will let Rose Ivanovna 
take it a few days. The statements about the false claim 
of death are very comforting. She also says some¬ 
thing that reminds me of our talk with Rose Ivanovna 
a few nights ago. Here it is, ‘Let us rejoice that Life 
like an opening bud is unfolding to our consciousness 
the bliss of being’.” 

An hour later, the three friends found themselves 
treading the mazes of a winding alley off Grand 
Street. At last, they located the house and began to 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 171 

climb the dark, narrow stairs. At the fifth floor they 
found a door bearing a card with the name ‘“Tschik- 
onoff.” “Goodness!” ejaculated Rose impulsively 
drawing her skirts aside as three small, half clad chil¬ 
dren crowded by her in the narrow passage, “I’m 
so glad you came with us, Mr. Malcolm. I would 
never have dared penetrate this place without a man. 
And to think of that dainty piece of womanhood, Rose 
Ivanovna, living here!” Just then the door opened 
in response to Mr. Malcolm’s knock and Rose Ivan¬ 
ovna herself was smiling at them. She did not seem 
greatly surprised to see her visitors and, with great 
cordiality, asked them to enter. They found her 
alone, the old man, she explained, was down tidying 
up the shop where he worked, a shop selling coppers 
and brasses, embroideries and potteries from his na¬ 
tive Russia. 

Rose Ivanovna wore a long smock and her hands 
were daubed with something white. “Were you cook¬ 
ing ? Have we interrupted some biscuit making ?”asked 
Mrs. Fox pleasantly. “No, no. I pass my Sundays 
and evenings playing with my clay. I love above 
all to make things in clay. I call them my children,” 
and she pushed aside a figured curtain and showed 
them a row of clay figures standing upon a shelf 
against the wall. The visitors gave a cry of pleasure 


172 THE INNER SECRET 

and astonishment, for here were displayed evidences 
of a talent of no mean order. There were Cherubs, 
kewpies, heads of tiny babies, roguish boys, pouting 
girls, and one tall figure of a majestic woman, sorrow 
written all over her. She pointed to it and said sim¬ 
ply, “She, Russia, my country.” 

“And you, you who can do such things,—you make 
pants and vests every day?” exclaimed Rose Northup. 
Mr. Malcolm said earnestly, “We must get her out 
of these surroundings and into a different life. She 
has great talent.” 

“But, one must live. One must have bread and a 
leetle meat once a week,” replied the girl with a shrug. 
“If my Michael had come home he says I no work 
hard no more. I play with my clay all the time.” 
Tears welled up and her voice choked. To divert 
her sad thoughts Rose began at once to tell her about 
Nicholas’ message, about The Cheka, and the tele¬ 
phoning to Washington in his behalf. 

“I have heard of The Cheka in Moscow,” said Rose 
Ivanovna reminiscently, “but I am from Little Russia, 
in the south. I not been in Moscow. Michael he 
come from near Moscow when he leetle feller. So 
my Michael, he was in The Cheka, too! I glad I 
know. Maybe when your man he come back, he tell 
me more ’bout Michael. I like to know everyt’ing. 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 173 

Oh, yes! Nicholas, he will get out. He have lovely 
reason to get home,” and she looked admiringly at 
Rose. 

Mr. Malcolm and Mrs. Fox were standing a little 
apart conversing in low tones and examining a picture 
of the Madonna and Child beautifully set in a heavy 
jeweled frame on the dingy wall. Rose Ivanovna 
noticed them looking at it and drew Rose Northup by 
the arm towards them. “See/’ she said. “There is 
where I put Nicholas’ leetle song for a whole year, 
back of that, our sacred Ikon. Our Lady she guard 
your message from your man, but I pray to her every 
day to save my Michael, to bring heem home to me 
safe, but he die all same. I t’ink she not hear me. 
I t’ink—” 

“You are beginning to doubt the efficacy of implor¬ 
ing a personal God, whatever you call Him or Her, to 
intercede in your particular behalf; to do as you 
ask Him to! How many millions have been through 
the same experience! But, little Rose Ivanovna, I 
have brought you a paper with a message about your 
Michael. It was written by a great and good woman 
who loved everybody, and she knew how sore hearts 
everywhere were grieving over just such separations 
as you and Michael have had. She knew, because she 
too had been through it. I will leave it with you to 


174 THE INNER SECRET 

read by yourself. The woman’s name is Mary Baker 

Eddy. Here it is.” 

Rose Ivanovna took the Sentinel reverently and 
placed it carefully behind the Ikon. “Perhaps this is 
my answer,” she said, “my letter from Michael. I 
read it when I alone, when I grieve for Michael. You 
told me when I at Mees Northup’s house, Michael, he 
not dead. He live just same, no?” Her eager, anx¬ 
ious eyes searched Mr. Malcolm’s as if her existence 
depended on his answer. 

“Yes. I did. He had life. And life means living. 
It can never change to mean dying. Michael lives 
and loves you the same as ever. I told you that you 
two were like buds on the same rose bush, he had only 
pushed through a crack in the wall out of sight. Mrs. 
Eddy tells us in that paper I gave you, ‘Let us rejoice 
that life like an opening bud is unfolding to our con¬ 
sciousness the bliss of being.’ Try to think of it care¬ 
fully, to know every day that you and your husband 
are unfolding more and more, that life is unfolding 
to you the bliss (think of that word), the bliss of real 
being. And in bliss there can be no sense of separa¬ 
tion, else it wouldn’t be bliss.” 

Little Rose Ivanovna nodded her head in approval 
and said “I shall t’ink much ’bout eet.” “Do you not 
get a pension or something from our government, and 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 175 

can you not live on that without working in a sweat¬ 
shop, and so pursue your favorite calling of model¬ 
ing ?” asked Sallie Fox, practically, as at last they 
were seated on the rickety chairs the room afforded. 

“I not have anyt’ing,” said the little widow, shaking 
her head mournfully. “I go see a man but he say 
mebbe p’raps he see ’bout eet some other time. He 
never do anyt’ing. I have to work. Father he not 
earn much, only ninety cents a day. He not see very 
well and no one want heem.” 

“Willard Fox has just got to get busy again with 
that Washington wire,” exclaimed his wife with a 
decided toss of her head. “She must have her hus¬ 
band’s insurance, but until then I will play Santa 
Claus.” Mr. Malcolm motioned to her to come over 
by the window, that he wanted to talk with her, and 
Rose engaged their little hostess in an interested 
conversation. 

“I have a friend in social welfare work not far from 
Grand Street,” he said, “and I will ask her to look 
up Rose Ivanovna’s record, then we will do something 
definite for her. Anyway, she must have the govern¬ 
ment insurance as you say.” 

“Yes,” returned Mrs. Fox, “and I am going to 
finance her for a while, until she gets to earning some¬ 
thing with her chosen line of work. She is too dear 


176 THE INNER SECRET 

and good to be left here. I lost a daughter years ago 
who would be nearly as old as Rose Ivanovna and— 
and this girl appeals to me. I had intended to spend 
my time East in Boston, but I can’t seem to get out 
of New York, there are so many wonderfully inter¬ 
esting things happening right here in which I am 
rather mixed up!” 

Mr. Malcolm smiled approvingly and said, “And 
yet how many wealthy people come here,—even Sci¬ 
entists—and go away again without having done any¬ 
thing for the city, without having given it any good or 
any personal interest, just had the idea of getting, get¬ 
ting,—amusement or styles or money. But you have 
already utilized your time in bringing Truth to others 
here who needed it. You have gone out into the high¬ 
ways and hedges and told them the good news. That is 
what we are commissioned to do, in the Gospels. And 
one never knows how far reaching such work is. I 
always feel that for each new person I interest in the 
true and inward meaning of Life and God, I can count 
on four or five others coming through their personal 
touch. It grows like a snow ball. But I must move 
on, for I have much to do before I can retire tonight, 
and it is getting dusk already.” 

Rose Ivanovna parted with her guests reluctantly 
at the street door, and received the promise of another 


MRS. FOX GETS BUSY 177 

visit within a week, and that if any news came from 
Nicholas Louma she was to be notified at once. When 
the trio of friends reached the corner they looked 
back at the slender figure in the dark doorway, and 
Sallie Fox gave a long sigh as she remarked, “Lovely 
lillies sometimes grow in dark muddy pools. She 
seems all the purer by contrast with her surroundings. 
We will have her out of that as soon as I can fix it!” 
and she gave Rose Northup’s arm a gentle squeeze, 
adding, “It was through you I met her, and I thank 
you. Where will the trail of my visit to the reading 
room that day ever end?” 

“In a good deal of harmony—a little bit of heaven 
—for several persons I believe,” replied Rose, who 
since her call had felt singularly uplifted, and surer 
than ever of Nicholas’ rescue. She felt that great 
forces were at work, that righteousness—right mind¬ 
edness—would prevail, and that no mystery or mis¬ 
takes could continue to seem to exist in the bright light 
of really true thinking, thinking from the standpoint of 
Jesus’ statements: “I and my Father are one,” and 
“Behold, I give you power over all the power of the 
enemy.” “And that power,” reasoned Rose as they 
rode uptown, “must be and is, all-powerful, right 
thought, for mentality alone is cause. And as Mrs. 
Eddy said in her early edition of Science and Health, 
‘Soul and body are God and man, Principle and its 
idea’.” 


CHAPER XIII. 

The Chalice and The Chair 
Mrs. Cartwright was waiting at the Stratford read¬ 
ing room for Mr. and Mrs. Rochelle to appear. She 
hoped no other visitors would interfere with the in¬ 
terview, for she felt it to be a most important matter. 
Henri and Beatrice also hoped they would have the 
opportunity to discuss the early editions of Mrs. 
Eddy’s book, for they felt it to be even more important 
than did Mrs. Cartwright. “One thing, Henri,” urged 
Beatrice as they neared the edifice. “Be sure to show 
a loving, Christian spirit about it. You know you 
have had a very different life and training from hers. 
You were brought up and educated in Continental 
Europe, you have a different outlook on life from a 
small-town New Englander, and you do not feel the 
same sense of church authority as Mrs. Cartwright 
does.” “All right, petite. I’ll let you do the talking. 
You are much more at home on the subject than I 
am anyway. I’ll confine my efforts to Aunt Delia. 
She seems pretty sensible.” 

Mrs. Cartwright sat reading Mrs. Eddy’s book 
“The First Church of Christ Scientist and Miscel¬ 
lany,” and, as soon as the greetings were over, she 
began to read at once from page 237 , the first par- 
178 


THE CHALICE AND THE CHAIR 179 
agraph called “Take Notice,” beginning, “What I 
wrote on Christian Science some twenty-five years ago 
I do not consider a precedent for a present student 
of this Science.” Mrs. Cartwright read it aloud slowly 
and impressively. “There! That is why I took that 
old copy of Science and Health out of this room. You 
cannot deny that this Notice I just read had reference 
to such editions.” 

“Mrs. Cartwright, I must deny that I think so,” 
said Beatrice smiling. “ ‘Some twenty-five years ago’ 
is indefinite. It might refer to her other books. Turn 
to page 114 of the same book and read what she says 
about her first writings on Christian Science; how 
when the sun rose in the morning ‘the influx of divine 
interpretation would pour in upon my spiritual sense 
as gloriously as the sunlight on the material senses. 
It was not myself, but the divine power of Truth and 
Love, infinitely above me, which dictated ‘Science 
and Health with Key to the Scriptures”.’ Farther on 
she says, ‘I was . only a scribe echoing the harmonies 
of heaven in divine metaphysics’.” 

“Yes, I know, but—” 

“And did you ever think when and where that 
‘Take Notice’ that you read to me was first published, 
Mrs. Cartwright ?” went on Beatrice. “I have brought 
with me a copy of the Christian Science Journal for 


180 THE INNER SECRET 

August, 1908 , and her Notice was the first on the 
Editorial page, then farther on, on the next page is 
a short article written by Mr. Archibald McLellan, 
the Editor in Chief, called ‘Alleged Early Man¬ 
uscripts.’ He says, ‘We have been asked about 
certain unpublished manuscripts said to have been 
written by Mrs. Eddy in the early years of 
her discovery of Christian Science. All we 
can say is, that if these manuscripts are genuine, 
they are probably what she refers to in the Preface 
of Science and Health, on pages viii and ix.’ That 
shows me conclusively that Mrs. Eddy’s ‘Notice’ and 
Mr. McLellan’s editorial published in the same ed¬ 
itorial pages of the same issue of the Journal refer to 
the same thing, viz.: her early, unpublished notes or 
manuscripts; otherwise, Mrs. Eddy, then living, would 
have corrected Mr. McLellan. When her ‘Take No¬ 
tice’ was put in the book you read from, generally 
spoken of as ‘Miscellany,’ the context, Mr. McLellan’s 
editorial, was left out. Now, I am sure, Mrs. Cart¬ 
wright, you agree with me, since I have called your 
attention to it.” 

Mrs. Cartwright shook her head. “I cannot. I 
don’t see as you have proved anything. I still believe 
she referred to the text-book.” 

“Do you believe Sibyl Wilbur’s ‘Life of Mary 


THE CHALICE AND THE CHAIR 181 
Baker Eddy’ met with Mrs. Eddy’s endorsement? 
You have it for sale here, and I will show you some¬ 
thing in that. On page 208 in the chapter on the First 
Edition of Science and Health, Miss Wilbur says, 
'Her experience in Stoughton and Amesbury had 
yielded the "Science of Man,” manuscript and also 
certain commentaries on the Bible. Now the book 
which she purposed writing was to contain the com¬ 
plete statement of Christian Science.’ Then she de¬ 
scribes how Mrs. Eddy purchased the small house at 
No. 8 Broad Street, Lynn, and how she was obliged 
to lease the greater part of it, reserving in the attic a 
small chamber for her own use. 'The room was 
austerely furnished * * * * * Its one article of 
luxury was an old-fashioned haircloth rocker.’ 'In 
this garret chamber, she finished her manuscript of 
"Science and Health,” practically the work of nine 
years’.” 

As Beatrice halted in her reading and looked up, 
Mrs. Cartwright said reminiscently, "Yes, I have seen 
a life-size picture of that little chair. It used to have 
a prominent place in the 'Mother’s Room’ in the 
original edifice of the Mother Church. We were al¬ 
lowed to go in there, a few of us at a time, and look 
at the room and some gifts which had been sent to 
Mrs. Eddy. An attendant was always present and 


182 THE INNER SECRET 

ushered us out after a certain brief length of time.” 

Beatrice was much interested and said, “I, too, 
remember that room perfectly. The large picture of 
the haircloth rocker occupied the wall at the left as 
you went in. It said on it that in this chair Mrs. Eddy 
sat when she wrote Science and Health.” 

As she said this, she opened her eyes wide, as 
though a new thought had come to her, but her hus¬ 
band spoke first, “Well then, that proves conclusively 
that Mrs. Eddy regarded her book in its original state 
as correct, else she never would have permitted and 
sanctioned that display of the picture of the chair in 
which she sat while she wrote it. I say, she would 
never have allowed it to be on view in the very church 
edifice, if she wanted to discredit the book she wrote, 
or to turn her followers’ attention away from its orig¬ 
inal edition. Oh no, Mrs. Cartwright. That is proof 
conclusive to me. I never heard of this Mother’s 
Room before. Can one see it now?” 

“No,” answered Mrs. Cartwright. “Since the ex¬ 
tension was put on the church the Room was closed. 
But you can read a detailed description of it in Mrs. 
Eddy’s book ‘Pulpit and Press.’ Hand me a copy, 
Mrs. Rochelle.” 

Beatrice reached for the book and Mrs. Cart¬ 
wright pointed to pages 26 to 28 , also to 58 . “Hm!” 


THE CHALICE AND THE CHAIR 183 
said Henri. “An antique lamp was kept perpetually 
burning behind her portrait in stained glass where she 
was shown searching the Scriptures, while a star 
shone down on her. I think, Mrs. Cartwright, if I 
am the jury of one, in this case, I would say you had 
lost your case, when you claim that Mrs. Eddy dis¬ 
credited the original book she wrote.” 

“I wouldn’t claim exactly that,” began Mrs. Cart¬ 
wright lamely. “But I have been told—” 

“Would you let me read just a little more from 
Sibyl Wilbur’s book?” asked Beatrice. “On page 215 , 
she writes, ‘The book came out in the Fall, ***** 
It was a stout volume bound in green cloth, a succinct, 
concise and lucid statement of Christian Science. 
Though Mrs. Eddy has many times revised this book, 
***** the essential statements are the same as in 
the original volume. Because of these subsequent 
labors, ***** certain critics have said that the 
original work has disappeared in the book that stands 
today, ***** that “Science and Health” is the 
product of another mind than Mary Baker Eddy’s. 
Because of the supreme audacity and unscrupulous 
wickedness of such an assertion, this first edition is 
indeed a “precious volume.” It holds, like the Grail, 
that receptacle in which the wine was given to the 
disciples, the verities of Christian Science.’ And, on 


184 THE INNER SECRET 

page 219 , Miss Wilbur writes, ‘The first edition of 
“Science and Health” which the critics of that day 
fell upon with ironic glee, stands as the model of the 
finished structure of today. * * * * * It has been 
plagiarized and pirated from, villified and burlesqued, 
but it will stand’.” 

As Beatrice read the last few words in a forceful, 
positive tone, Mrs. Cartwright reached for the book to 
see for herself, then said, “I am convinced that I was 
wrong. I don’t want to join the ranks of those who 
attack it, however unconsciously, I was doing it.” 

Beatrice was radiant as Mrs. Cartwright spoke, and 
said impulsively, “How splendid of you, dear Mrs. 
Cartwright. I felt sure that if you once saw the great 
error of your position in regard to the old books, you 
would at once acknowledge it. And you have done 
so. Error has tried every way to keep people from 
getting the truth contained in Mrs. Eddy’s great dis¬ 
covery, and now the latest is—one must not study the 
plain, ‘succinct, concise, and lucid statement of Chris¬ 
tian Science’ as at first written down by its discoverer. 
Oh, why will people be so blind ?” 

“Especially when they have had no more reason 
than that ‘Take Notice’ in ‘Miscellany’,” said Henri. 
“To my way of thinking, the early editions are in¬ 
deed the chalice holding the wine of God.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“Though I Make My Bed In Hell.” 

The windows in the prison walls are high, and, 
moreover they are whitewashed. The walls in the 
prison are thick. The beds in the prison are bare 
boards with now and then a sack of straw. The 
rooms in the prison were well filled, eight persons be¬ 
ing crowded into the small apartment where Captain 
Nicholas Alexandrovitch Louma was confined. An 
old man sat under the one electric light poring over a 
book, the others sitting in glum silence, for after 
twelve months of being compressed into a ten by 
twenty room, the subjects of conversation are worn to 
tatters. At length an eager eyed lad of nineteen burst 
out, “Slava Bog! Good Gracious! Let’s make a 
racket! I shall go mad! The stillness here is so thick 
you can feel it. Have you all lost your voices?” and 
he began singing in a high, clear tenor, Nicholas’ song: 
“Nightingale, thy song is free! 

“It speeds its way o’er the sea. 

“My heart’s own song ; on moonlighf s rain, 
“Comes beating on thy window-pane.” 

The other men during the months past had impro¬ 
vised an accomoaniment with all the movement of 


185 


186 THE INNER SECRET 

Rubinstein’s Barcarole. This was done by the voices 
of four men and with two broken combs. The men 
hummed, 



During the singing, Nicholas Louma sat with face 
in hands. How many hundreds of times had he heard 
them sing it, and had hoped against hope, that his 
song would reach Rose and be the means of his rescue. 
But spring had ripened into summer, summer had 
melted into autumn, autumn had slipped into another 
Russian winter, and now April and May had come 
again, and he was in the same room of the same 
prison. The two former years had been times of con¬ 
stant change, from one trial and examination to an¬ 
other, but the past twelve months he had been confined 
in this basement room of the Cheka. No change, no 
variation in the dull routine, except as a fellow pris¬ 
oner had been given the surly order, “Pack your 
clothes,” and had gone out to a fate unknown to the 
others, or, as a new-comer had been silently let into 
their room, sometimes in the middle of the night. 
Nicholas Louma was not a Christian Scientist when 
he left America, but his little Rose had been one, so 
he respected the Science, and now tried to remember all 








“THOUGH I MAKE MY BED IN HELL” 187 
she had told him about it. She had had an altogether 
different idea of God than he had been taught by his 
mother and the Russian priests. She spoke of Deity 
with greatest freedom, as though the Almighty Pres¬ 
ence were well known to her. He regretted now that 
he had not accepted the little book she offered to give 
him on his departure. But, he ruminated, it would 
have been taken from him long ere this. The old 
Hebrew sitting under the light had been permitted his 
copy of the Hebrew Scriptures only as a great favor 
because he had rendered the Commandant of The 
Cheka a signal service. And then, too, what harm 
could come of a lot of Hebrew hieroglyphics which no 
one was interested in? Nicholas had amused himself, 
—and the old man—by taking up the study of the 
language, and now would try to translate the talk go¬ 
ing on around him into rough Hebrew. It served to 
pass the time away. 

Some way, the last two weeks he had felt a shade 
more hopeful. The pall of gloom under which he had 
sunk had lifted a little. That very day he had noticed 
through the peep-hole the boys had made in the white¬ 
wash of the window, a tiny flower blossoming in the 
dirt and shade of the court-yard just outside their 
window ledge. Its roots must reach down between 
the rough cobble-stones, yet it bloomed on, sending 


188 THE INNER SECRET 

out its little aura of cheer and perfume to all. “Brave 
little plant!” thought Nicholas. “What ill wind 
brought your seed to this dark court-yard? But in 
spite of your surroundings you swelled and grew and 
sent down your tiny rootlets into the muck among the 
stones. And now your leaves and rosy blossom glad¬ 
den the eyes of us imprisoned ones, who get a glimpse 
of you through a scratch in the windowpane. What 
makes you grow? What makes you bloom? What 
makes your petals red instead of blue ?” He had asked 
the old Hebrew for his opinion and he had pointed to 
his beloved Scriptural writings, saying, “All things are 
explained in those. Let me read you what it says: 
‘These are the generations of the heavens and of the 
earth in their being created, in the day when Jehovah 
was making the earth and the heavens. And every 
plant of the field when it was not yet in the earth and 
every shrub of the field before it will sprout forth/ 
Tell me what Jehovah is and you will have your an¬ 
swer. Jehovah, the great Elohim, is the Almighty I 
AM. I AM THAT I AM says to the plant ‘I have 
made thee to grow, to beautify the earth. I have made 
thee before there was a man to see thee, before thou 
wast, at all, as an earthly thing. Thou dost exist in my 
creative Mind, and by my law thou showest forth my 
glory and wisdom/ Selah.” 


“THOUGH I MAKE MY BED IN HELL” 189 
Nicholas had then remembered hearing a man in a 
Christian Science church service he had attended with 
Rose, read the words “Mind is God.” Could that be 
the answer? Could anything but MIND claim to be 
I AM, to say I AM? Was it Mind that bade the 
flower grow, as a part of its own glory? 

Some way the little talk with the Hebrew philos¬ 
opher about the flower growing outside the wall had 
done him good. He felt he had a new subject for 
thought, at least. And if it were true, that the I AM 
of the Bible is Mind, could he not appeal to this Mind 
to let him grow and expand and finally burst the bonds 
that bound him? Could it be the will of that Mind 
that he should remain in exile? Had this Mind 
formed him in Mind before he grew? What did that 
Mind want him to do? In this way Nicholas Louma 
had gotten through the wearisome day, until now his 
song was being sung by his room-mates, and it brought 
back his intense longing to be free, to return to his 
adopted land where Rose, his Rose, was waiting for 
him. 

“Whirling snow, nightingales gone, 

“Moonlight and lovers’ songs are done. 
“Angry winds shaking thy pane— 

“Moonlight will come again!” 
sang the prisoners lustily, when a rap-rap-rap on the 


190 THE INNER SECRET 

steam pipes gave notice that the men in the adjoining 
room wished to give them a message. The prisoners 
had their own Morse code which was tapped and 
scratched along the pipes, from one end of the huge 
building to the other. When it was time for the guard 
to come slipping along the corridor, silence reigned, 
but at other times news traveled fast by way of this 
prison telegraphy. “Rap-tap-tap. Something is up” 
ran the message. “Look out. Much stirring in the 
Commandant’s quarters. We are going to sleep in 
our clothes tonight. Something is up.” 

“Good luck!” said the lad who had been the soloist 
of the evening. “Time something happened. I am 
almost ready to face the firing squad and have it over 
with. No one outside who cares about me anyway. 
No one to send me any peredaches, any food packages. 
I am sick, sick, sick of fish soup, and black bread made 
mostly of sawdust. Anything for a change, say I.” 

The men in Nicholas’ room rapped back that they 
had understood the message and would be ready for 
eventualities. Almost immediately the metal plate of 
the glazok, the peep-hole in the door, was pushed aside 
and the Captain of the Guard put his eye to it and 
looked them over, counted them over, and thought 
them over. Then he turned off the light and 
the men retired to their bare board beds fully 


‘THOUGH I MAKE MY BED IN HELL” 191 
dressed. Not one slept for some hours but 
soon after midnight Nicholas heard them one 
by one begin to breathe heavily, and the old He¬ 
brew snored when the door was flung open and the 
Captain of the Guard without turning on the light, 
called, “Vladimir Ivanovitch! Sobiraites s veschiami. 
Pack your clothes!” The man addressed slipped from 
his couch obediently, trying to find his few poor pos¬ 
sessions in the dark, then muttered, “Turn on the 
light.” The Guard paid no attention, only saying, 
“Skoree! Quicker!” “Turn on the light, then,” said 
the prisoners crossly. “We aren’t fish that can see in 
the dark.” 

“The lights are out of order. I have sent for a 
lantern, if they can find one. There are only three in 
The Cheka, curse it!” 

Now the bare board bed of Nicholas Louma was 
next to the door, and quicker than it takes to tell it, 
the idea came to him from Mind, “An open door! 
An open door!” Instantly he slid stealthily from his 
bed and under cover of the old Hebrew’s stentorian 
snores and the Guard’s exhortations to Vladimir to 
make haste, and make it quick, Nicholas stole behind 
the Captain’s back into the hall which was the blackest 
place he had ever been in. He had on soft straw lapiti, 
shoes worn by the peasants, and they made no noise 


192 THE INNER SECRET 

as he felt his way along to where he felt sure the stairs 
leading upward must be. Yes, here they were, the 
ladder to freedom and Rose, or to detection and a 
firing squad. He would take his chance, although he 
was convinced that some force or outside power was 
helping him and he would trust it. He must; to go 
back would be impossible. When half way up, he 
could see a speck of light coming towards him along 
the upper corridor. It was the other guard with a 
swinging kerosene lantern. Nearer and nearer he 
came, but, fortunately, his lantern cast only a small 
circle of light on the stone floor, and seemed to ac¬ 
centuate the blackness beyond it. He was a rather 
small man, tired from the long hours of work in the 
prison, and Nicholas thought quickly. He wanted that 
lantern. He must have it to enable him to locate a 
door leading outward, and he must also have it in 
order to prevent the Captain of the Guard who had 
come for Vladimir from using it to find him. It 
certainly was a slip of the tongue for the Captain to 
tell the men that there were only three to be had, and 
that the lights were out of order. Nicholas sensed 
all this without putting it into words at all in his 
thought. He knew he was a far more powerful man 
than the approaching guard, even though weakened 
by his confinement and scanty food. 


“THOUGH I MAKE MY BED IN HELL” 193 

He sprang on the stair rail and lay along its length 
motionless. Down the steps clattered the guard’s 
heavy shoes. He had an ugly face, befitting his call¬ 
ing of guarding men who had been imprisoned be¬ 
cause they were educated, because they had uttered or 
written a protest against the Soviet Government, or 
possibly because they might be spies for people who 
did not relish the Bolshevist ideas. Down the stairs 
came the guard and up from the room below came the 
Captain’s voice booming, “Skoree! Hurry, thou dog! 
Bring the light.” The guard reached Nicholas, more 
concerned to report to his Captain on time than to 
look for possible prowlers in the dim reaches of the 
corridor. As quick as a cat, Nicholas grabbed him, 
gagged him with his handkerchief, bound his hands 
with the man’s own scarf, then tied it to the 
stair rail, and with the lantern as his only weapon 
went leaping up the stairs to the upper hall. He must 
be quick, quick. No false turns in the vast halls must 
be taken. He must head straight for a door. 

“Oh Mind, God, direct me!” he prayed. And 
back from the chambers of memory a voice saying 
words he must have heard somewhere, sometime, “I 
will guide thee with mine eye. Be strong and of a 
good courage.” 

He suddenly saw before him a heavy barred door 


194 THE INNER SECRET 

leading evidently to the courtyard. He shook it. 
Locked, of course! He shook it again. He must get 
out. Sounds and exclamations from below were 
reaching him. “O God/’ he cried, “an open door!” 
and suddenly it opened outward and he faced a man in 
uniform. 

“Quick!” whispered Nicholas. “I have urgent 
business with the Commandant. He has sent for this 
lantern. Let me pass, I say.” 

The man eyed him sleepily. “What the hell did 
they send you for? This sounds suspicious to me.” 

“Oh, Mind!’ breathed Nicholas. “Come to my 
rescue. Reveal thy will to this man. Make him see 
it his duty to let me by.” Then to the man he said: 

“You may not know it, but there are many nasyet- 
kas here in the prison. We live among the prisoners 
and learn many valuable secrets which we impart to 
the Soviet Government. You better not stop me, little 
brother. Let me pass.” 

The man knew well that the nasyetkas, or stool pig¬ 
eons for the government, had learned many things of 
importance, by professing to be fellow prisoners; and 
had not this man standing before him a lighted lantern 
which must have been given him by someone in au¬ 
thority to light him on his way to the office of the 
Commandant across the court-yard? 


“THOUGH I MAKE MY BED IN HELL” 195 

“Very well,” he said. “Pass.” 

The court-yard was almost as dark as the halls had 
been. Scurrrying clouds were spitting rain. “Moon¬ 
light and lovers’ songs are done,” came to Nicholas 
as he stepped out into the blackness. A few steps 
from the door he extinguished the lantern after he 
had located the direction of the great gates leading to 
the street. As he neared the Commandant’s office at 
their right his door opened, and the Commandant’s 
voice was saying loudly, “Go to the Chief’s Bureau 
at once and take this report. Hurry.” Nicholas 
fully realized that whoever the messenger might be he 
would have to pass through these gates, so he crept 
nearer, breathing a prayer to the Almighty Presence 
which his Rose seemed to trust so fully. The man 
crossed from the Commandant’s door, whence came 
a narrow shaft of dim light to the gates. The sentry 
left his box, inserted his huge key and turned it in 
the lock, when the man turned back as his superior’s 
voice boomed forth, “Come here, you have forgotten 
this packet of papers.” The sentry stood holding the 
gate open as the man brushed past him saying, “I will 
be back in a minute. Don’t lock them, for I am in a 
great hurry.” “All right, little brother,” saluted the 
sentry, “I will just light my cigarette.” With a leap, 
Nicholas sprang to the gateway, just as the sentry’s 


196 THE INNER SECRET 

match flared up and blinded him to everything beyond 
the length of his cigarette. When he flung the match 
aside it hit Nicholas’ foot, but Nicholas was outside 
the walls, alone on the streets of Moscow. 



CHAPTER XV. 

“Thou Art There.” 

Now Moscow lies near the center of Russia, and 
there were vast lonely stretches of forest and steppes, 
of rivers and hill-encircled valleys, between it and the 
freer countries where Nicholas might find a friendly 
hand to speed word to Washington of his existence. 
He managed in the black darkness of the rainy night 
to get outside of the city unobserved. He felt sure 
he was headed in the right direction, southwest, but 
what should he do when the dawn came, when people 
were stirring along the roads? He breakfasted on 
young sorrel and other weeds, drank from a friendly 
well out of sight of the farmhouse, and trudged over 
the stubbly fields, keeping away from well trod paths. 
At dusk he slept three hours under a wagon, then hur¬ 
ried on through the soft spring night, for a panic 
seized him. Suppose he should be caught and carried 
back to The Cheka ? Suppose after this delicious taste 
of freedom some roaming spy should report him to 
the Soviet authorities, and his dream of a homecoming 
to Rose be forever shattered! He must sleep by day 
and travel by night. If he can only keep his sense of 
direction, if he can only find food enough to enable 
197 


198 


THE INNER SECRET 


him to walk! As he lay down the third morning after 
his escape, hungry, utterly exhausted and confused, 
sleep failed to come, instead his mind was active. 
Fragments of half-forgotten things seemed to float 
across his memory. Words, sentences, phrases. 
“Nightingales’ songs.” “Angry winds shaking thy 
pane.” “In the day when Jehovah made the earth and 
the heavens. And every plant of the field before it 
grew.” “An open door!” Where had he heard 

that? Where had he seen that? Yes, the door 

had opened but a soldier had been there. The 
gate had opened and by the flicker of a match he 
had escaped. “The great Elohim is the I AM, the 
I AM THAT I AM.” Mind is God.” What else could 
say “I AM” but Mind? Where was this I AM? 
How came he himself to say “I am this” or “I am 

that”? Sometimes he said “I am sleepy,” or “I am 

Nicholas Louma” or more often “I am desperate or 
hungry.” The thought of the I AM of the universe 
was with him persistently as he lay in the shadow of a 
cliff, near a brawling stream and away from the main 
traveled road. He had somewhat lost his sense of 
direction. If he could only have a good breakfast, a 
breakfast with Rose at a small table placed in a sunny 
window! I AM! I AM! How it rang through his 
thoughts. Was he weak and giddy from lack of food? 


‘THOU ART THERE’ 


199 


Then like a flash came the inspiration, “If you are, if 
YOU ARE, if your being exists now, it will always 
exist, it is immortal. It will struggle on through these 
dark days, and will accomplish what you permit it.” 
He sat up suddenly as he saw the point, and raising 
his eyes towards heaven exclaimed, “I have been given 
dominion over all the earth, according to God’s holy 
Word. I AM hath given it to me, but I have to take 
it and to use it. I shall escape from this net and be 
restored to usefulness and love, for it is right.” This 
came to him with such an overwhelming force that 
the entire current of his thoughts was changed. He 
had a firm conviction, for the first time, that he would 
make his way to a neighboring state where help and 
friends could be found. He rose, bathed his face and 
hands in the cool waters of the brook, and as he knelt 
he spied across the bank red berries growing in the 
grass, wild strawberries. His breakfast! Thank 
God! An hour later, with sun higher, he lay in a 
profound slumber, while the birds sang their morning 
songs, and only the butterflies and bees watched over 
him. 

But down the dusty road there came a small car¬ 
avan, four horses, two wagons and some dogs. They 
were looking for a better place to camp than they had 
found. All through the moonlit night they had urged 


200 THE INNER SECRET 

on their beasts, and now all through the morning they 
must halt and rest, till noon should send them on 
again. For they must push on, push on, ever stead¬ 
fast to their purpose. Great distances must they cover 
from sun to sun, for the supply of food was running 
short, and fodder for the animals was hard to find. 
Indeed, they feared the animals would be requisitioned 
for food by half-starved peasants. 

A dog which had bounded across a field now re¬ 
turned and barked joyfully, leaping and pulling at a 
man walking beside a wagon. “What have you found, 
Boy?” asked the man as his eye roved over the land¬ 
scape. “Water, I will wager!” and he, too, raced 
across the field. An ideal camping place for the few 
hours they could halt. He motioned to the others to 
come, and in ten minutes they halted beside Nicholas 
Louma, deep in sleep. 

At noon, refreshed, rested, fed, they harnessed the 
animals, packed up their belongings and gathered for 
a conclave regarding the sleeping stranger. “See!” 
said a motherly looking young woman, pointing to his 
feet. “His lapiti are in shreds. He is as good as bare¬ 
foot. He looks weary, weary. Let us take him in 
our wagon. Come Father and Ilya, give a hand. Lift 
him in here.” So Nicholas was laid on a bundle of 
straw in the bottom of the wagon, and knew it not, 


“THOU ART THERE” 201 

for the long months of strain and suffering were be¬ 
ginning to tell, and he knew nothing of his surround¬ 
ings till at dusk the girl shook him and proffered him 
some hot broth which he drank greedily, then half un¬ 
conscious, turned over and fell into the deep, heavy 
sleep of exhaustion, while the horses and dogs jogged 
on down the rough, dusty road, on and on through the 
quiet night. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

“Let There Be No Strife, I Pray Thee.” 

Some weeks after Mrs, Cartwright had had the 
interview with Henri and Beatrice Rochelle in the 
reading room, she stopped them on the street one day 
and said, “May I have a few words with you? I 
want to say that although I admit you won your case 
about the old editions of our text-book, yet I feel very 
strongly that it was very wrong of Mr. Walter to un¬ 
veil the meaning as at present given us in the current 
books. If our leader had meant us to see the things 
as at first written down by her she would not have 
covered them up in the later revisions.” Mrs. Cart¬ 
wright felt that this was an unanswerable argument, 
and she wondered if they would have any reply ready. 
But she did not know Henri Rochelle. 

“Why, then, Mrs. Cartwright,” he said, “if it was 
wrong for anyone to attempt to unveil Science and 
Health, it was much worse for Mrs. Eddy to unveil the 
Holy Bible? Yet she did not scruple to call her book 
‘Key to the Scriptures.’ Is there any truth too sacred 
for humanity to know and have the benefit of ? If you 
say the time has not yet come because of the wicked¬ 
ness of the world, when will the time ever come? 


202 


“LET THERE BE NO STRIFE, I PRAY THEE” 203 
Why, every translation that has ever been made of the 
Scriptures has been an effort to unveil the meaning, 
to make it plain to the masses who could not read the 
original tongues. Wyckliffe, Tyndale, Rogers, were 
persecuted unto death because they dared print the 
Bible in the English language so all might read and 
understand. I found only yesterday an old book in 
Mr. Rowe’s excellent library, called ‘The Old Testa¬ 
ment Unveiled.’ It was published in 1854 . You will 
admit,—will you not?—that while all Truth is sacred, 
none is more sacred than the Holy Scriptures?” 

“Of course that is so, Mr. Rochelle. And I will 
admit you and Mrs. Rochelle have done some good 
healing while you have been here. Mrs. Rowe is a 
wonder to me. A woman of her years, too!” 

“I, too, have been rummaging in my Uncle’s li¬ 
brary,” said Beatrice, “and have been reading some 
books by Canon Farrar on the early days of the 
Apostles, and he says much of the Revelation of St. 
John the Divine was given in cipher, or in figures of 
speech, which the times were not ready for, because 
the prophecies might be interpreted by the ruling pow¬ 
ers to refer to them, but that some one would interpret 
or unveil them, when they were able to. That is the 
way with the matter you speak of. If anyone can or 
does do it, doesn’t that show that the human conscious- 


204 THE INNER SECRET 

ness is ready for it? The fact that it has been done 
with numberless resultant blessings from it proves to 
me, that the time has come. I believe Mrs. Eddy 
hoped some one would dig, and dig until he found 
the inner meaning. And this Mr. Walter has done. 
Yes, Aunt Delia is doing splendidly. In fact, she 
rebukes me if I say an unscientific thing. This morn¬ 
ing she was telling me that when Uncle Andrew had 
his last sickness, she was in bed with a hard cold, and 
fully expected to stay there a week. The nurse came 
in and told her Uncle was failing fast. She was so 
surprised and shocked that she arose, dressed and 
waited on him every hour he lived, and never even 
remembered she had ever thought she had a cold. It 
completely vanished.” 

“Yes, I had a little conversation with her this morn¬ 
ing as she sat on the porch,” answered Mrs. Cart¬ 
wright,” and her understanding of metaphysics sur¬ 
prised me. She talked beyond some people who have 
had the regular class teaching. She wanted me to take 
one of Mr. Walter’s books home with me, but I could 
not bring myself to do that. It cannot be right to 
delve into outside literature like that, and I am dis¬ 
tressed that you do it.” 

Beatrice waited to let Henri reply, which he did as 
he gazed off over the hills in the distance. “Suppose 


“LET THERE BE NO STRIFE, I PRAY THEE” 205 
I had argued that way when Beatrice offered to let 
me read Science and Health two years ago when we 
met in Vienna! Suppose I had said, ‘I have never 
heard of anybody named Eddy, and I do not care to 
read any philosophy written by a foreign woman, espe¬ 
cially. The learned works of my native land and of 
other European countries are good and I will not delve 
into anything else/ Would I not have automatically 
cut myself off from knowing the truth contained in 
Mrs. Eddy’s books? I cannot look at life that way. 
I cannot be restricted in my search for God,—and 
man.” 

“And man?” exclaimed Mrs. Cartwright, in a sur¬ 
prised tone. 

“Yes. Do you know him?” 

“To be honest, I don’t. Except that he is the image 
of God.” 

“Mr. Walter’s works would make it clearer to you, 
then.” 

“But I do not care to read them. They are subtle.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I have been told so,” persisted Mrs. Cartwright, 
shaking her head. 

“I was told that Christian Science was a clever imi¬ 
tation of hypnotism, but I wanted to see for myself, 
then I would be able to answer intelligently.” 


206 


THE INNER SECRET 


“Of course, you are both free to read what you 
choose, if you care to take the responsibility, but I am 
not willing to,” said Mrs. Cartwright. 

“Well,” said Henri as they moved on, “Let’s rest 
the whole thing on two famous sayings in the New 
Testament, one by Jesus: ‘Every plant that my 
heavenly Father hath not planted shall be rooted up,’ 
and the one by Gamaliel, so logical and fair: ‘If this 
work be of men it will come to naught; but if it be of 
God, ye cannot overthrow it’.” 

And they passed on down the shady street, a great 
peace in their hearts, for each one was honest in his 
viewpoint and time alone must test their standpoints 
and their convictions. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

In Romany. 

The lurching of the rude cart had ceased and Nich¬ 
olas could hear the soft panting of the horses and the 
jabbering of many soft voices in an unknown tongue. 
How long had he been in this heaving, rumbling bed 
on wheels? Where was he? Who were these people 
talking so earnestly outside? When did he enter this 
covered wagon? He remembered nothing of it. He 
had eaten and drank at intervals, and had roused 
enough from his stupor to sense that he was moving, 
always moving. He had often thought half sleepily, 
“Oh, if I could only be still and comfortable!” But 
the jerking and creaking had gone on and on indef¬ 
initely. Now they had stopped and he was fully 
awake. He even remembered his name. It seemed 
to be Nicholas,—Nicholas Alexandrovitch—Nicholas, 
son of Alexander, or Nicolai, as the Russian name 
was called. 

What was he doing in this wagon? Where was 
Vladimir and the old Hebrew and the young singer 
who carolled something about nightingales ? He 
would tap on the steam pipes and find out the meaning 
of all this queerness. The men in the next rooms 
would know, oh yes, they would tell him. They were 
207 


208 THE INNER SECRET 

friends. Then through his dazed mind ran a gleam 
of remembrance which brought the clue to his present 
state. The tapping on the steam pipes had said some¬ 
thing was up. They would sleep with their clothes on. 
Something was up! Yes, in a flash he saw himself 
crouching on the stair rail, coming before a closed 
door, an open door, a murky court-yard dripping with 
rain, a cigarette being lighted, an open gate, a free 
road ahead, walking by night and sleeping by day, a 
friendly brook, the ever-present I AM, fresh courage, 
a breakfast of wild strawberries, then a blank. He 
must have been picked up and carried off bodily, and 
as the idea forced itself home, his hair stood on end, 
his teeth chattered and he broke out in a cold perspira¬ 
tion. Surely he must be outside the walls of Moscow, 
and would be facing the Commandant of The Cheka 
in a few hours, or would it be only minutes. He im¬ 
agined he could see the metal cover of the peep-hole 
pushed aside and the Captain’s piercing eye looking 
in upon him, only upon him. Under the action of 
these quickly formed beliefs and fears, Nicholas 
Louma sank again into the unconscious state he had 
been in for many days. 

“Aha!” laughed Marie outside, shaking a slim finger 
at a robust young man, “he is a very good looking 
fellow, I think, and so does Margarita. All the girls 


IN ROMANY 209 

are in love with him. Ana and Tatiana and all of us.” 

“Huh! He is but a Gorgio!” exclaimed the other 
in a tone of contempt, as he moodily whittled a stick. 
“You girls make me sick! He is probably an escaped 
convict. You will get yourself into trouble by keep¬ 
ing him any longer. Take my advice and chuck him 
out.” 

“Ah, Ilya, your voice roars like a lion, but your 
heart is as soft as a doe. Chuck him out on the road¬ 
side after these weeks of nursing! Chuck yourself!” 
and she picked up a small stick and threw it at him 
as he turned away and strode down the hill towards 
some other men who were corralling the beasts for 
the daily rest. The girl, Marie, turned with a light 
laugh to Tatiana, Margarita, and Ana, who had in 
the meantime drawn near, and began to sing mock¬ 
ingly a little gypsy rhyme they all knew: 

“Poraquel luchipen abajo 
“Abillela un balichoro, 

“Abillela a goli goli, 

“Ustilame Caloro.” 

The young man, Ilya, caught the mocking words as 
the fresh young voices rang out, and they meant that 
he should. 

“There runs a pig down yonder hill, 

“As fast as e’er he can. 


210 


THE INNER SECRET 
“And as he runs, he crieth still, 

“Come steal me, gypsy man!” 

The sound of the singing so near the covered wagon 
wherein lay Nicholas roused him again to take cogni¬ 
zance of his surroundings. Surely that was not the 
singing of prisoners in the Cheka. It sounded care free 
and joyous, and he tried to rise to his feet, but found 
himself unable. So he lay and listened. What were 
those strange words? Not Russian. Not German. 
Not Greek. Then he remembered a young boy that had 
been brought in the prison one day, whose stay had 
been brief. He spoke little, but the little he did speak 
sounded like this tongue he was now hearing. Like 
all Continent-born people of education, Nicholas was 
somewhat of a linguist, and now he remembered the 
boy’s voice plainly. Yes, that was the language. The 
men in his room had not known it, but someone had 
telegraphed the information by way of the pipes that a 
gypsy or two had been run in. That must be it, he 
had been carried off by a wandering band of gypsies, 
that mysterious, half vagabond race which drifts from 
Asia to Europe and from Africa to America. A great 
wave of intense relief swept over him and he felt 
stronger and even able to knock on the side of the cart 
to summon someone to come to him. Almost at once 
the flap at the foot of his bed was lifted and a merry, 


IN ROMANY 211 

tawny face wreathed in smiles looked in. Her hair, 
coal black and lustrous, was interwoven with gay beads 
and ribbons, and eyes like sparkling jet gazed straight 
into his. It was the first sight of a woman’s face he 
had had in many months, and his eyes clung to hers 
without a word being spoken by either. Over her 
shoulder looked Ana and Tatiana, for they had not 
been permitted by Marie and her father to wait on the 
strange Gorgio picked up by the brookside, and they 
hungered for a sight of him. Marie had insisted that 
since she had been the one to propose taking him along 
with them, since it had been her father and her sweet¬ 
heart, Ilya, who had lifted him to their cart, therefore 
he belonged to her. 

“Little sister,” he ventured in the soft Russian 
tongue, “where are we? You are not taking me back 
to Moscow, are you?” He did not know whether she 
would understand him, but to his surprise she answered 
him readily. “Ah, you are awake. Good! I get you 
some bread and milk from my very own goat,” and 
before he could call out, she had disappeared, dragging 
the other girls forcibly after her. She soon returned 
bearing a quaint cup of gay pottery and a generous 
piece of dark bread. She climbed into the wagon and 
squatted beside him as she held the cup to his lips. “I 
go get you a chicken, a fat young pullet tonight when 


212 


THE INNER SECRET 


the sun goes to bed. I know where there are some. 
I spied them as we rode along, back yonder a piece. A 
nice little farm with a real cow and poultry. I chose 
you a nice red chicken, plump and young. She will 
melt in your mouth.” And she made a little sound 
with her lips to illustrate how good it would taste. 

“But the chicken is precious. Perhaps they will not 
sell it. And anyway I have not a hundredth part of 
a ruble,” he said between sips of the milk. 

She threw her head back and laughed, then said with 
an expressive shrug, “Oh. I steal it. I just take it, 
wring its neck so, and bring it to Matushka to make a 
stew for you, my Gorgio,” she ended shyly. 

The word “Gorgio” he well knew Was the Romany 
word for a non-Gypsy, a Gentile or heretic. Yes, they 
were gypsies. Thank God! He was so relieved that 
he uttered the ejaculation aloud, and she quickly picked 
him up. 

“What do you mean by Thank God’ ? We have no 
word for God in our tongue. I have heard it in Russia. 
Tell me.” 

He lay back with a delicious sense of rest and safety, 
warmed by the food and cheered by the presence of a 
sympathetic human. 

“It was God that made you pick me up and bring me 
along with you,” he said. “God is good. God is Mind. 
God is here.” 



IN ROMANY 213 

She started slightly and looked around the wagon’s 
interior. “Wouldn’t your God have saved your life if 
we had not come along ?” she queried. 

“Yes, I think so. I felt before I sank to sleep that 
day that He was near, that the great I AM of the uni¬ 
verse would see me through,” he replied. 

“See you through!” she repeated. “And we were 
led to that field and that brook and,—” 

“And God spoke to you, that is, you felt a strong, 
kind impulse to take me with you, and you did; you 
were a good Samaritan, so now I say Thank God!” 

“Why don’t you thank me, Marie, instead of God?” 
she persisted, fastening her black velvety eyes on him. 
“I told Ilya and Father to put you in the cart. You 
have my bed. I don’t see where this other being, God, 
comes in. We have no such being or name in 
Romany.” 

“I do thank you, Marie, with all my heart. You 
have been goodness itself, but this goodness, we are 
taught, comes from God.” 

“Where is God?” she asked. “In your heart, I 
think,” he answered with a smile. 

She shook her head as if not able to comprehend, 
then sprang up to leave him. 

“We are to stay here twenty-four hours,” she said. 
“We are in a hidden valley, which the Gorgios know 


214 THE INNER SECRET 

not of, and we feel safe, and must give the animals a 

good rest, for now the way is steep and rough.” 

He reached up and pulled her skirt gently. “Tell 
me, Marie, little sister, where are we? I must know 
before I can sleep again.” 

“We are in the Palm of The Hand, a secret ravine 
known only to us gypsies, not many miles from Jassy. 
You are quite safe.” 

“Jassy!” he exclaimed in delight. “Roumania! 
And safety. Thank God!” 

“There you thank God again. I think you had bet¬ 
ter thank Ilya and Father who drive our beautiful 
horses, Boy and Wildfire. They draw you all the 
time when the rest of us have to walk. They are 
very good animals. I love them. I walk beside them 
sometimes and talk to them. They understand. My 
dogs understand too. You Gorgios, you do not un¬ 
derstand. You think they know nothing. I tell you 
they know more than lots of people I have seen. The 
little chicken, when I catch her, I tell her she give her 
life for you, a nice sick man, although a Gorgio.” 
She pronounced the last word sorrowfully, regret¬ 
fully, for she well knew a vast gulf separated her 
from any Gorgio ever born. 

“You must not steal the chicken for me, Marie. I 
do not like it. No, no.” 


IN ROMANY 215 

She sprang from the cart with a mischievous shake 
of her head and with flashing teeth smiled back at him 
as she began to sing: 

“There runs a chick down yonder hill, 

“As fast as e'er she can. 

“And as she runs, she crieth still, 

“Come steal me, gypsy man!” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Clover and Mustard Seed. 

During the early days of August, Ralph Potter and 
wife were planning to motor to Maine, stopping in 
Boston on their way, and they had asked Rose to ac¬ 
company them. This she hesitated to do, as she felt 
she must let nothing interfere with her mental work 
for Nicholas, and her intensive study on the subject 
so near her heart. But Mr. Malcolm, when advised 
of the proposed trip, did not advocate her remaining 
in New York during the sultry weather, and asked 
why she did not write to Beatrice Rochelle and inquire 
if she could not get board near her, in Stratford. The 
plan pleased Rose, in fact it seemed ideal; she at once 
telephoned to Mrs. Fox who lingered near the metrop¬ 
olis, and this good lady jumped at the suggestion and 
added one of her own. 

“Could you all stand it if Willard Fox and I tagged 
along too? We just love the Rochelles, and as they 
will be returning to the other side before long, and 
we out to the Coast it may be some few—well, I’ll say 
months—before we meet again. We could board 
where you did and have such a good visit. And I, for 
one, want to meet Aunt Delia. Beatrice writes such 
216 


CLOVER AND MUSTARD SEED 217 
interesting things about her. She isn’t afraid to speak 
right out in meeting. What do you say?” Rose, of 
course, fell in heartily with the idea and Mrs. Fox 
said she would have her husband telephone to Bea¬ 
trice at once and inquire about a hotel. So it all fell 
out that within three days the group of people from 
the four corners of the earth were again assembled 
together, with one purpose and one intent, to learn 
more of the mysteries of life, of existence, the “What 
and the Why” as Aunt Delia said. 

One morning, a week after their arrival, Beatrice 
and Henri called at the hotel to see the friends from 
New York, for they had an important bit of news. 

“I had a letter from Mr. Malcolm this morning,” 
began Beatrice, “and he has a wonderful plan. At 
least Henri and I think it wonderful, and so does 
Aunt Delia.” 

“I will endorse it then,” said Willard Fox, “without 
further particulars.” 

“It is this. He knows we all want to be taught by 
him before we separate, and he proposes that he come 
up here and hold his class at our house.” 

“Magnificent!” ejaculated Sallie Fox, clapping her 
hands. “Oh, I can hardly wait. Won’t that be just 
fine?” 

“Yes. so much better than in the heat of the city, 


218 


THE INNER SECRET 


and we, my husband and I, find we shall have to return 
to Switzerland early next month, in fact, in about 
three weeks. Henri has had a cable.” 

“Did you say Aunt Delia, too?” asked Mr. Fox, 
who had devoted himself to her since his arrival in 
Stratford. “I think that will be great. She is won¬ 
derfully clear and intelligent in her reasoning. I spoke 
to her today about your possibly forming a Christian 
Science church or society in Switzerland in accord¬ 
ance with Mr. Walter’s teachings, and she answered 
as quick as a wink, ‘Nothing of the kind. A church 
is for creeds and beliefs. A science must be taught 
in schools the same as other branches of education. 
When anyone asks me hereafter what my church be¬ 
lieves about this or that, I’ll tell ’em, but when they 
ask me what is the real fact of a thing, like mathe¬ 
matics, or Christian Science, I’ll tell ’em they will have 
to study to find out. I had to’.” 

“Yes, that sounds like her. And how true it is that 
we are not going to start any church or any movement. 
We are just to demonstrate what we know,” said 
Henri. “And Aunt Delia is indeed anxious to study 
with Mr. Malcolm—if he will take her.” 

“Now we are going to learn how to reason cor¬ 
rectly,” said Rose Northup, “how to reason from the 
position that mentality is cause, that the body is effect. 


CLOVER AND MUSTARD SEED 219 
I can hardly wait to learn more of this wonderful 
subject. Jesus’ teachings are illumined to me now.” 

“Mr. Malcolm also says,” went on Beatrice, “that 
a clergyman’s wife who had been recently healed of 
a growth by him, wishes to enter this class. So she 
would come and board here too.” 

Sallie Fox and Rose exchanged glances, while Mr. 
Fox nudged his wife and said, “Well, your learned 
discourse that day in Mr. Malcolm’s office didn’t 
sicken her of Christian Science. You wandered all 
over the Old Testament and talked to her in all the 
dead languages if I remember correctly.” 

“You gave her new life and hope,” put in Rose 
warmly. “I watched her expression change while you 
talked. And in regard to dead languages, I believe 
there are treasures buried in them yet, which haven’t 
been uncovered. Nicholas used to say so. He loved 
to browse in museums and pore over queer looking 
documents.” 

“Well, anyone who can read Russian” exclaimed 
Mrs. Fox, “I will take off my hat to! Sanskrit would 
be nothing to him. He could read that as readily as 
I manage to stumble over French verbs.” 

“I believe you are right. Miss Northup,” said Henri, 
earnestly. “I have often looked at those queer char¬ 
acters in museums too, and wondered what thoughts 



220 THE INNER SECRET 

they had brought down through the dim ages from 
past thinkers. We have only a small part of them 
translated into our tongues. And very often where 
a choice of words was possible the translation was 
colored by the theological beliefs of the translators.” 

“To come down from antiquity to the present year 
of our Lord, right here in these United States,” said 
Sallie Fox energetically, “I want to ask what those 
senators, et cetera, in Washington are doing to rescue 
our Nicholas? I am getting provoked. We don’t 
hear a thing.” 

“Perhaps his escape will come about in another 
way,” said Henri. “Perhaps Mind alone will aid him 
directly. We haven’t heard anything encouraging 
from the Goodmans in Smyrna, but they have notified 
all the relief workers and English and American con¬ 
sulates in that part of the world to be on the lookout 
for him. However, a raven aided Elijah, and angels 
ministered to Jesus and Peter. We don’t have to have 
government aid, when depending on the ever-present 
help. I am confident Captain Louma is safe some¬ 
where!” 

“And so am I,” added Rose. “I have felt it ever 
since I caught the inner meaning of his conclusion of 
the song, ‘Moonlight will come again.’ You know 
the last few measures of that song were all his own. 


CLOVER AND MUSTARD SEED 221 
He changed abruptly into the major key, and that 
showed me he had a strong hope, amounting almost to 
a positive conviction that he would escape and come 
home to me. And we all know what such a positive 
conviction will do.” * 

“It will move mountains,” said Beatrice sympa¬ 
thetically, “and pluck up a sycamore tree by the roots. 
The little mustard seed has the power to grow and 
become a tree, and so must our faith and understand¬ 
ing. It will finally objectify itself as the object we 
hope and pray for, not a tree, perhaps, but something 
equally wonderful and grand. How many lessons 
we can get if we really study Nature!” 

“Yes,” assented her husband. “Aunt Delia is never 
without a bunch of clover now. She draws parable 
after parable from it. The last thing she propounded 
was—'why does clover when eaten by a hen turn into 
an egg, and when eaten by a cow turn into milk and 
cream ?’ ” 

“WMt was her explanation?” queried Willard Fox. 

“She said she had pondered it hour after hour, and 
had concluded eggs and milk and feathers and clover 
were all made by and of the same substance, viz.: 
Mind, or mentality.” 

“Good! Mrs. Eddy speaks of something quite sim¬ 
ilar on pages 26 and 27 of Miscellaneous Writings. 


222 THE INNER SECRET 

She says, ‘The only logical conclusion is that all is 
Mind and its manifestation, from the rolling of worlds, 
in the most subtle ether, to a potato-patch.’ And 
again, ‘Is a stone spiritual? To erring material sense, 
No! but to unerring spiritual sense, it is a small 
manifestation of Mind, a type of spiritual substance’,” 
replied Mr. Fox. 

“Come over to the piano,” said his wife rising, “and 
let’s sing Nicholas’ song again. I haven’t heard it for 
some weeks.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The Little Red Hen. 

At nine o’clock that July night it was still not dark, 
so Marie, the Roumanian gypsy girl, resolved to set 
out for the farmhouse where she had “chosen” the 
little red pullet for her Gorgio. She would steal forth 
alone from out the shadows cast by the wagons and 
skirting the group of pine trees reach the rough cart 
path over which they had come that morning. 

Ilya must not know it, he must not miss her. She 
could go more quickly alone, her step would be fleeter, 
she would run less danger of being caught by the own¬ 
ers of that little red hen, for Marie well knew how 
precious was any sort of food in these famine days. 
She would find the roost, then grab her prize and tuck 
it under her arm, waiting till she reached her own 
camp before she wrung its neck. She looked about 
for a chance to make her start unnoticed. Ilya and 
another young man were piling brush on the camp 
fires, for the night must be utilized to do their cooking, 
as they were to break camp at dawn and push on over 
the Roumanian border, through a narrow pass in the 
steep hills known only to the gypsy folk,—or so they 
imagined. 

She had confided to her mother that she was going 

223 


224 THE INNER SECRET 

foraging and begged her to have a kettle of boiling 
water ready. Her mother had frowned and said: 
“There is no need of your doing that, Marie. Let the 
men find any extra food we may need. I like not your 
roaming over these fields and lanes. In fact, I have 
a feeling of ill, tonight. My heart is heavy. Your 
fate may be near. Take Ilya with you.” 

“Ah Matushka, Mother, you always are feeling 
things in your bones,” she replied rather crossly. “If 
my fate is near I cannot help it. It will come, so why 
fret? But you keep the pot boiling and I’ll have some¬ 
thing to put in it when I return.” 

“Little Marie,” urged her mother earnestly, “go not 
out alone. When you were born the signs pointed to 
a strange life for you when you were grown. 
And all day today I have watched you with pain in my 
heart. There is a line in your palm that I like not.” 

“Shucks!” exclaimed this gypsy maid, tainted with 
modern contempt for superstition, yet not knowing 
how to explain away the slight terror born in her 
breast by her mother’s earnest words. 

So she sped down the rude road, over the rough 
fields to the low hut where dwelt a few peasants eke- 
ing out a bare existence from the land. Yes, there 
was a small out-house where no doubt slept the desired 
pullet. She could go up in the shadow of the fence, 


THE LITTLE RED HEN 225 

for it was now quite dark and the moon was only just 
rising. No lights showed in the hut. The people had 
of course retired early to get ready for their early 
rising. She had a clear coast ahead. Her little hand 
soon found the pullet (there were only four), and as 
quick as a wink she tucked the chicken under her arm 
and sped back down the lane and into and across the 
fields. 

Her heart was light, and under her breath she sang 
this ditty : 

“Poraquel luchipen abajo 

“Abillela un balichoro 

“And as he runs, he crieth still, 

“Come steal me, gypsy man!” 

“Come steal me, gypsy man!” rang out her fresh 
young voice as she neared the turn in the path where 
she would be able to see the fires of her people and 
feel safe again. Someway, Matushka’s warnings had 
made goose pimples and she shivered suddenly as a 
night bird rose near her feet and she stumbled over a 
root. She would run. So talking in a crooning voice 
to the little red hen she sped on till she came to a wall 
near the main road. Now, she was almost home. In 
five minutes more Matushka would be preparing the 
delicious pullet for its sacrifice. “You know,” she 
whispered, “you just love to give up your life for my 


226 THE INNER SECRET 

Gorgio. He is such a nice sick man. You won’t 
really die. You will—” Just here a tall form rose 
from beyond the wall, a rattle of a sabre fell on her 
ear and she looked into the muzzle of a revolver. 

“Hold up your hands! Skoree, Quick!” said a 
gruff voice. She was too frightened to speak at first, 
too frightened to move. “Skoree!” urged the voice 
from out the blackness. 

“I cannot let go my hen, sir,” she replied. “It is 
for a nice sick man.” 

“A nice sick man, eh?” Perhaps just the one we are 
after. Where is he?” 

“Over yonder in our camp,” said the girl, her teeth 
chattering. Oh, if Ilya had only followed her. If 
Matushka had only sent him! Where, where was 
Father! 

“A good chicken stew would be a savory bit for me, 
myself. Lead the way, and no tricks, now,” responded 
the man as he climbed the wall and took her arm. 
“Come tell me about your patient, little gypsy! Where 
did you find him?” 

“How did you know we found him?” parleyed the 
girl to gain time, as she quickened her step as much 
as he would allow. 

“Oh, we know everything. You can’t hide from us. 
We have eyes all over Russia. We police,—” 


THE LITTLE RED HEN 227 

“Police!!” gasped the girl. Now it was all up! 
Her nice sick Gorgio would be taken away, back to 
prison probably. That must not be! She would not 
permit it. She would prevent it. She was a true 
gypsy, and would use all her wiles. So she changed 
her tone entirely. “You police make us gypsies laugh. 
We are the ones who know the secrets. We can read 
them in the stars and in the brooks, even in the palm 
of your hand. I knew you were coming. I saw it in 
the sinking sun, and so did Matushka.” 

“The devil, you did!” ejaculated the officer, sur¬ 
prised by the turn the talk had taken. “Well then, you 
can tell me where a fellow is, a dangerous counter¬ 
revolutionist who escaped from The Cheka a few 
weeks back. We are scouring the country for him. 
In order to win my promotion I am going to find him, 
dead or alive. Did you see that in the sun, moon or 
stars ?” 

She thought quickly how best to answer him, then 
said shaking her head emphatically, “No. Anything 
as personal as that I must read in your palm. Hurry 
to the firelight that I may see it. And I must hurry 
too, to give this pullet to Matushka for broth for my 
sick husband. He is very weak, and this would be 
strengthening, especially when you steal the chicken 
to make the broth.” 


228 THE INNER SECRET 

“Oh, does that make a difference ?” 

“In Romany it does. Yes indeed. I steal it in order 
to make a drink for my sick husband, to make him 
strong, so that is what it does. We have magic in 
Romany.” 

“You have magic in your eyes, little one. Give me 
a nice kiss now, and I’ll let you have the pullet,—for— 
for your husband, the nice sick man, you called him 
at first.” He bent towards her, but as quick as a cat 
she held up the chicken in front of her and his face 
came in contact with a mass of soft feathers. Her 
merry laughter rang out and she began singing the 
nonsense rhyme in a loud clear voice, for they were 
now approaching the camp. She sang in the gypsy 
tongue and her nimble mind composed fresh words to 
fit the tune. She was telling her friends what had 
happened, something like this: 

“A dog of a police found me. 

“He is after my nice Gorgio, 

“I have told him it is my husband 
“Who is sick in the wagon. 

“All of you help me. Swear 
“The sick man is my husband. 

“Ilya, too. You swear it, 

“And Matushka, my mother.” 

The man, not understanding her, reverted to his 
last words with her. 


THE LITTLE RED HEN 229 

“You imp,” he exclaimed. “Where is this husband? 
I must see him. What is his name?” They were now 
passing the first wagon and some gypsy children gazed 
at them curiously. 

“Help me to fool this police dog! 

“Swear the Gorgio is my gypsy,” 
sang Marie gaily, though with a nervous chill creeping 
over her as they were now passing the very cart in 
which lay her nice sick man whom she must, must 
save. She had heard wild tales of returned prisoners, 
those unfortunate individuals who had been caught 
and condemned. 

“What is his name?” urged the man, thinking to 
surprise from her the name of the man he sought. 

“Janos Kopek,” she lied glibly. “And a very fine 
name it is.” 

“Humph! That sounds Hungarian, not Russian.” 

“For once your police knowledge is right. My hus¬ 
band is a Hungarian gypsy, of course. As for 
Gorgios, I loathe them. If I saw one lying beside the 
road sick and in trouble, I would pass him by on the 
other side.” The lie stuck in her throat and she al¬ 
most choked. “Here we are at the fire. Now I can 
read your palm. Matushka, I brought this stranger 
in for a bit of bread, and to have me tell him a few 
things. You feed him while I put the chicken away 


230 THE INNER SECRET 

safely.” She walked to the flap door of their wagon, 
and thrust the pullet in, whispering frantically, 
“Gorgio! Lie quiet. A man is here after you. I 
met him in a field. I have said you are my—my—my 
nice sick husband. I will keep him away from the 
wagon if I can.” With this she vanished, and Nich¬ 
olas Louma lay almost stunned and trembling from 
the shock of the news. He had been told he was not 
far from Jassy, so had supposed he was on Roumanian 
soil, although in these troublous times and in the 
remote regions even that might not save him unless 
he could find an American Embassy or Consulate. 
Tears of despair smarted in his eyes, when a soft 
furry thing fluttered through the darkness and settled 
in the curve of his arm. It was the little red hen. 

It seemed to Nicholas, coming out of the blackness 
like that, a messenger of comfort, and he stroked her 
feathers whispering, “Why, oh why are we men so 
cruel to each other? Why can’t we just try to love—a 
little? It would solve everything.” A great peace 
seemed to steal into his heart as he stroked the small 
bird who fluttered half frightened on his arm. There 
was no material thing he could do, to escape. He was 
far too weak to walk. If he could go a short distance 
he would not dare to go out of sight of the camp fires. 
He would be utterly lost. He could not walk, he 


THE LITTLE RED HEN 231 

argued, but he could pray. The same I AM was pres¬ 
ent to help him that had given him the chance a month 
or more ago in The Cheka. 

He could look through a small hole in the wagon 
top and see the gleaming firelight and the band of fan¬ 
tastic figures crowding around the stranger. If he 
strained his ears he could listen, for Marie was speak¬ 
ing. She was bending over his hand. 

“You have a very fine hand, well marked. Yes, a 
hand to be proud of. I see promotion ahead of you 
and riches, but—” here she paused for she must not 
help him to think he was going to catch the man at 
once. He must be made to move on. “But not right 
now. Next year will be full of good fortune for you, 
if you do as I say. Go back the way you came, to a 
wide piece of water. Your good fortune lies beside 
that water. I think it is the man you look for.” He 
drew his hand suddenly from hers and said roughly, 
“I see through your tricks. You are trying to get me 
to move on. But I will not, not until I search every 
wagon on the place.” Nicholas stirred on his pallet 
of straw. “O God!” he breathed. “Not The Cheka 
again! The Commandant! The firing squad! 
When I am within a stone’s throw of Roumania and 
an American Embassy! How many times have I 
besought thee in days past, but no answer came until 



232 THE INNER SECRET 

the night I left Moscow. How canst thou be so un¬ 
loving? I AM THAT I AM, the old Hebrew said 
was the name for God. O God, explain it to me. I 
am in—” he paused. He had said “T am” of him¬ 
self. What could it all mean? Was the soul, the es¬ 
sence, the self-existent part of himself, of the flower 
growing in the court-yard at The Cheka, of this little 
pullet here, at one with the great I AM of the whole 
universe? If so, then this applied to the Russian po¬ 
liceman outside. And that substance, that essence, 
that I AM, was Love! I AM THAT I AM meant 
I AM WHAT I AM, and the “what” was Love. Of 
course that was the answer. He would not worry. 
He need not worry or fear. Had he not heard some¬ 
where “All things work together for good to them that 
love God”? Naturally, since the I AM of all things 
was Love. He talked to his little companion in a 
whisper, and told her of his newly discovered secret, 
hid from the foundation of the world. She seemed 
to him to listen, to cock her head on one side and 
listen. 

But what was this they were saying as they drew 
nearer his wagon? “What is the name of the man 
you look for?” asked Ilya who tagged him closely, to 
guard Marie. Now none in the gypsy caravan knew 
the name of their guest lying ill in the rude cart, for 


THE LITTLE RED HEN 233 

it was only today that he had been at all rational. 
Nicholas not realizing this, not remembering all the 
details of his capture and stay with them, listened in¬ 
tensely for the answer. 

“What difference does it make what his name is? 
He escaped under cover of the darkness the very night 
he was to have been executed at The Cheka. And we 
are out, a hundred strong, to find him. 

A mist swam before Nicholas’ eyes as he heard these 
words. Executed! Executed! He had escaped just 
in time. His clutch on the bird loosened. His arm fell 
back, his head rolled to one side. He was again 
unconscious. 

“Give me that torch, fellow!” stormed the officer, 
“and let me have a look at this Hungarian husband, 
this n-i-c-e s-i-c-k m-a-n,” he drawled in imitation of 
Marie’s voice. “I must see what sort of a looking chap 
he is who captured this dainty piece of a Tzigani,” and 
he chucked Marie familiarly under the chin. 

Ilya, who was at her side, scowled savagely and 
clenched his fists. If this Russian dog of a Gorgio, 
police or no police, laid a finger on her again, it would 
be the worse for him. 

“Here is your torch,” said Marie’s father. “But we 
asked what his name was because we saw a skulking 
fellow over yonder, two suns back. He told us his 


234 THE INNER SECRET 

name when we fed him, but I have forgotten it. If I 
heard it again I might recognize it.” But the officer 
would not follow the trail of the man “over yonder, 
two suns back.” 

“Oh, begone with you! Give way! Let me open 
this flap and look inside!” He raised the curtain and 
thrust in the streaming torch. But this was too much 
for the little red hen. She gathered all her strength, 
fear lent her wings, and she flew towards that terrible 
flame, that sudden glare, and her sharp little beak bit 
and picked at the very eyelids of the officer of the 
Soviet police. He cursed everybody and everything 
and hurled the torch from him as he raised his arms to 
defend himself. What demon, from the lower regions 
had they confined in that cart? He had always heard 
tales of the gypsies’ familiarity with the Evil One, and 
now he had had ocular proof. He stumbled away from 
the cart, through the crowding, chattering Tzigani, 
who, except Marie, her father and mother, were un¬ 
aware of the author of the attack. 

“I am blinded for life, curse you!” yelled the man. 
“What infernal region is this, anyway? Let me get 
out of here. Take me to the highway and leave me 
quick! skoree!” 

“He isn’t blind at all,” said Marie’s father calmly. 
“I stood close by. The chicken only pricked his lid till 


THE LITTLE RED HEN 235 

the blood ran down and blinded him. He will see too 
well in a day or two. Then look out! Harness the 
horses, you Ilya and Ivan You Basil and Gregorio. 
Let’s get over the border into our beloved Roumania, 
where these midnight bandits do not molest peaceful 
folk.” 

His word was law to the tribe, and they sprang to 
obey him with alacrity. But Marie was not satisfied 
yet. This might be the only chance she would have to 
learn the real name of the nice sick Gorgio. Perhaps 
he himself would not tell her the truth. Perhaps he 
might die! 

So she walked over to the now blinded and helpless 
police, saying softly, “Sir, if you would trust me with 
the name of your prisoner I would keep a strict watch 
out for him, and that would help you now that you are 
wounded. And I would catch him quick, and hold him 
fast till we got to other nice policemen like you. 
Skoree, tell me, Marie.” 

Two men held his arms to guide him to the road and 
leave him there, so he bent and whispered in her ear, 
“His name is Vladimir Ivanovitch Roussoff,” and he 
left her saying over and over the name of the man she 
was harboring, or so she believed. 

Thus it came about that two days later when the little 
caravan had threaded its way as rapidly as possible 


236 THE INNER SECRET 

through the wild pass in the mountains and reached 
Jassy, it was as Vladimir Roussoff that they reported 
the stranger they had picked up, to the Red Cross head¬ 
quarters, Marie’s father insisted that this be done. 
They must not have him die on their hands. He must 
have a doctor and the medicines that the Gorgios used. 

The doctor came and examined the man, shook his 
head, and said to Ilya who stood by, “Will it be possible 
for you to keep him in your camp a short time? Our 
small hospital is overcrowded, we are short of nurses, 
and this man ought not to be moved anyway. Have 
you a strong woman to nurse him? If so, fetch her. 
I will give her instructions.” Marie, who was listening 
outside the cart lost no time in convincing the Gorgio 
doctor that she was the very one for the task. So the 
doctor left with pity in his heart for the escaped Rus¬ 
sian prisoner, for such he felt him to be. As he left 
the camp and turned into the road he met the automo¬ 
bile of the American Minister, who bade the chauffeur 
stop and take in the well known Red Cross physician. 

“A sad case I have just left. A poor Russian gentle¬ 
man fleeing the authorities, I fear. The gypsy band 
picked him up. They are kind at heart,” said the 
doctor. 

“His name?” inquired the Minister quickly. 

“Vladimir something. His last name begins with 


THE LITTLE RED HEN 


237 


‘R’ I think. It is on the records at the office.” 

“It is strange,” mused the American, “that we cannot 
get the slightest trace of Captain Nicholas Louma of 
the United States Marines.” 

“Yes,” returned the other, “I am keeping a sharp 
watch out for news of him. But Russia is so immense, 
and so chaotic at present.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

“Whatsoever.” 

The class taught by Mr. Malcolm in Stratford was 
finished. The last word had been said, the last ques¬ 
tion answered. They had all left the room except Rose 
who lingered, reluctant to go. 

“Were you satisfied, Miss Northup? asked the 
teacher with a smile. “Do you feel you are now an 
understander instead of a believer?” 

“Oh, yes. Indeed I am more than satisfiel. It was 
wonderful, wonderful. It will take me long to digest 
it all, but—” 

“But what? Have you another question? I shall 
be glad to stay an hour longer if necessary. I want 
you completely satisfied.” 

“I am so troubled about Nicholas today, and yester¬ 
day, too. I can not get him out of my mind. If I 
do not get some further news of him soon, I just don’t 
know what I shall do. Can you tell me what to think ? 
How else to work than I have been doing? My work 
seems vague and indefinite now.” 

“I am glad you spoke of that, Miss Northup,” re¬ 
plied Mr. Malcolm. “It is very important not to have 
our work vague and indefinite. If you set out to make 
a dress or a hat with just a vague idea in your mind 
238 


“WHATSOEVER’ 


239 

how you would make it or how it would look, I fancy 
you wouldn’t have a very satisfactory result. Jesus 
said ‘Whatsoever things you desire!’ That is pretty 
definite, isn’t it? Not a beating about the bush, not 
what someone else thinks best for you, not the things 
you would rather not have, but whatsoever things ye 
desire! Remember, these are not Mr. Walter’s words 
nor mine. They are the words of Jesus Christ of 
Nazareth, he who said he was in heaven while yet on 
earth. He said in substance, if you want this moun¬ 
tain leveled, or this tree removed and cast into the sea, 
you can do it, if you know you can, if your faith in 
my words and works creates in you a similar faith in 
your own work. ‘Nothing shall be impossible unto 
you.’ Now can you tell me just what your desires 
are? It isn’t necessary, you know, but perhaps I can 
help you more definitely and to the point if you tell 
me what is in your mind. If not, I will understand 
that you want to work it out yourself. You can do 
it. What has been done can be done again.” 

“I want Nicholas to return. I want to rent a cer¬ 
tain little apartment before he comes, and furnish 
it, to have it ready. Oh,” she exclaimed, “it would be 
such a happiness! I know just the place, and some 
things I want to buy, but I am afraid of outlining. 
You know we were taught not to.” 


240 THE INNER SECRET 

“If we don’t do some outlining of good for our¬ 
selves, not many others take the trouble to. Your 
wish is perfectly legitimate and right. If you think 
it will help you to expect news of Nicholas, to rent 
that apartment and fix it up, do so. Then expect him 
to come. Tell him to come. God, Good is always 
available, ever-present. Soul, you know we are told, 
sends its despatches everywhere. Send them and await 
an answer. Truth must be applied, the male element 
of Mind; then Love, the female element or convic¬ 
tion of certainty, must be applied too. This last is 
all-powerful when combined with true thinking. To¬ 
gether they are perfect understanding, or Mind.” 

“I thank you so much, dear Mr. Malcolm. Where 
would I be now if I had not found this teaching?” 

“Where thousands of others are! In the fog of 
belief, and the slough of discouragement. Now get 
to work definitely. Outline whatsoever things ye de¬ 
sire, as long as they are good and right. Soul does 
not carry messages of evil. Only the right. Only the 
right!” and he left her to her thoughts. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

The Harvest Home. 

Marie, the Tzigani, the Roumanian fiancee of Ilya, 
proved to be a capable as well as a faithful and untir¬ 
ing nurse, and one night in the last week of August 
her patient was able to sit in a hammock and watch a 
dance given by the young people of the tribe in honor 
of the approaching harvest, which was doubly grateful 
after the years of no crops, no food, all war and 
hunger. 

Captain Louma had not asked where their camp was 
located. He had just been able to lie and rest, to bask 
in the sense of security and returning strength. He 
had made Marie sing to him many of the songs of 
her people, but of them all he liked best the light 
dainty little song he had first heard her sing, about 
the chicken, although she had often changed the sub¬ 
ject of the verse at will. Now it was a pig, again it 
was a horse, and then it was a puppy. She had told 
him the story of his rescue by the quick and furious 
action of the little red hen. She told it with many 
embellishments and gestures, and her only regret was 
that in their hurried flight they had had to leave the 
pullet behind in the darkness. 

241 


242 THE INNER SECRET 

Tonight at the dance, Marie was dressed in much 
gypsy gorgeousness. Ilya also was decked out with 
many sashes and trinkets. He carried his violin, on 
which he was no mean performer, and Basil and Ivan 
had their stringed instruments, not unlike guitars. It 
was a gala occasion in the neighboring tribes, and 
many visitors had come out to see the dances and the 
costumes. Marie was to sing to the accompaniment 
of her friends’ music and Nicholas had painstakingly 
taught her the English words of the verse that had 
caught his fancy. He had written down the music as 
well as he could that day, for he wanted Rose to play 
and sing it when he should get back to New York. 
His faith in her never wavered. He knew she would 
be waiting for him. As this thought took shape in 
his mind he sat up. He must cable at once, at once! 
Tonight! Where was the camp? How far from 
Jassy? Could he send Ilya in with the message? No, 
Ilya was attentive to nothing but the dance and Marie. 
And then, too, he had no money. 

A lady and gentleman brought camp chairs and sat 
not far from his hammock. They seemed absorbed in 
the scene and conversed in low tones. The music of 
the dance struck up, the flying figures came out around 
the huge fire. The older gypsies filed into their places 
in the background and the entertainment had begun. 


THE HARVEST HOME 243 

It was fascinating and, of course, new to Nicholas. 
He loved to watch it, to pick out from among the 
crowd his gypsy friends who had been so heavenly 
good to him. But his heart was not in it. His heart 
and mind were in New York, New York, where there 
were no wild campfires, no street dancing, no chat¬ 
tering Tzigani holding carnival. His body might be 
in the wilds of Roumania, but he, himself, was over 
seas, in the vast regions to the west, where the setting 
sun pointed every afternoon. 

The lady and gentleman applauded enthusiastically. 
They stood up and called “Bravo! Brava!” Their 
voices were cultivated. He noticed they had on Euro¬ 
pean, fashionable clothes. Perhaps they had a castle 
nearby in the mountains. Roumanian nobles, probably. 

Now this was Marie and Ilya doing a dance to¬ 
gether. How graceful they were. How her teeth 
flashed in the firelight. How Ilya kept his adoring 
eyes on his partner. She stopped her dance and the 
boys began the turn, turn, turn, of an accompaniment, 
wild, minor and haunting. It was his song. 

The lady and gentleman stood up the better to see 
the singer, and Marie began to sing the English version 
he had taught her. This was it: 


244 


THE INNER SECRET 


VOICE. 


#-« r pi— t=t 

K. 

0 _4 

K 

There runs a girl 

VIOLIN. t 

- p—« - 

down yon - 

„ -44- 

R r 

< 

der hill, 

^3 4- 

- P - 

- 0 - 

As 

i -tr- J -- 

GUITAR. 

h T T 13— 

i— 1 

-- 

< 

=&= 

MM -y p p — 

1 b*=P= 

p I— 





1-: 

.=5=^3 

- 

as 

f—1 

-P—F ■ 

i she runs, she cr 

;=r=^—-h 

--.■: E- 1 - ±= 

i - - eth still, “Come 

=^==5==^-r-. 

M 

LJ « 

f=H 

=!=p-==P-=S 

Hi - h 

ifir- 

i 4n» 

h 

• ui 

* , 

F 3 

i===i 

F=* 

t=p—t 

r= * ^ 


r-1 




















































































































THE HARVEST HOME 


245 



At the closing words she tossed her tambourine to 
Tatiana and began an intricate dance, weaving in and 
out among the spectators pursued by Ilya. As she 
passed Nicholas’ hammock she sang out again, “Come 
steal me, Gypsy man!” 

The lady and gentleman turned to watch her every 
movement, so faced Nicholas. 

“What a wonderful dancer! What grace and 
abandon, Thomas,” said the lady to her husband. 

Their voices were unmistakably English! No,— 
could it be! Was not that accent dear old Yankee! 
With one stride, with sudden strength leaping into his 
muscles he reached their side. 

“Who are you?” he demanded. “For God’s sake, 
who are you?” 

“I am the First Secretary of the United States Le¬ 
gation summering here in Jassy,” said the man. “And 
this is my wife.” Nicholas could only stare. 

































246 


THE INNER SECRET 


“And your name?” asked the lady gently, for she 
saw he was laboring under intense emotion. 

“And my name is Captain Nicholas Louma, late of 
the United States Marines.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

The Mountain Call. 

A week after the class closed at Stratford the same 
people met in Mr. and Mrs. Fox’s suite at The Royal 
Arms Hotel, for Aunt Delia had accompanied her 
niece to New York to bid her and her husband God¬ 
speed on the return voyage to their Swiss home, and 
Mrs. Gardner, the clergyman’s wife, had been invited 
to join them at dinner that evening. The talk natur¬ 
ally drifted to the parting of the ways, and Aunt Delia 
was seen to wipe her glasses pretty frequently when 
the thought would overwhelm her that Beatrice and 
Henri were really going to leave America for an in¬ 
definite time. They had brought her so much light 
and joy that more than ever she felt reluctant to part 
with them. “Of course I know time and space are 
nothing nowadays,” she said. “But that ocean looks 
mighty big and real, when you come to think of it. I 
know I promised you I’d come over next year, if you 
couldn’t visit me, but it will take me twelve months 
to collect my courage. I shall have to take Mr. Mal¬ 
colm along with me.” 

“An idea par excellence ” said Henri quickly, “and 
one I wished to speak of to you, Mr. Malcolm. Seri- 
247 


248 


THE INNER SECRET 
ously, I wish you could see your way clear to come. 
We need you over there. There are thousands of 
unsatisfied folks, and we have had so little enlighten¬ 
ment on Christian Science that I really think it is 
your duty!” He smiled as he urgently spoke the last 
few words. And Beatrice clapped her hands softly in 
approval. 

“What is the matter with you, yourselves, enlight¬ 
ening the people? You now have the understanding 
of Truth, of God and man, of Mind and understanding, 
and you must put these tools to work—else they will 
rust, as is exemplified by any material tool left un¬ 
used long enough. We don’t start new churches, nor 
any rival movement or faction. We study, and teach, 
and talk, and live the Truth.” 

“I am very eager to begin,” said Beatrice. “What 
shall we do first when we arrive in Geneva and get 
settled in our own apartment?” 

“I would recommend you to study, and when I say 
study, I mean to study, the thirteenth verse of the 
third chapter of Mark’s gospel. Then when you see 
the meaning of it, do as Jesus did, and you may be 
surprised at the result. Your husband admits there 
are thousands of unsatisfied people, and Mrs. Eddy 
speaks of 'Millions of unprejudiced minds,—simple 
seekers for Truth, weary wanderers, athirst in the 


THE MOUNTAIN CALL 249 

desert’ who ‘are waiting and watching for rest and 
drink’.” 

“Give me a Bible and Mrs. Eddy’s book,” said 
Aunt Delia. “I want to look them up right away. 
I’m not going to Switzerland, but I’m going back to 
Stratford, and I know there are thirsty people there, 
if I can’t call ’em unprejudiced.” 

“You will find that reference on page 570 of Science 
and Health,” said her niece, “for when I was in relief 
work I used to read that every day. It seemed to ap¬ 
ply. But I am anxious to read the verse in Mark. 
Here it is: “And he goeth up into a mountain, and 
calleth unto him whom he would: and they came unto 
him.’ Goodness! How can I do that?” Her ex¬ 
pression was so perplexed that Henri laughed out and 
said, “Mr. Malcolm laid particular emphasis on the 
word ‘study.’ If you could comprehend the verse at 
a glance he would not have urged the study of it.” 

“You see Jesus,” began Mr. Malcolm, “had with¬ 
drawn himself with his disciples to the sea, after hav¬ 
ing healed the withered hand on the Sabbath day. 
This had so incensed the Pharisees that they sought to 
kill him, and he wished to get out of their way and 
further instruct his followers to carry on his work. 
But a vast multitude from the cities and from beyond 
the Jordan, and even from Tyre and Sidon thronged 


250 


THE INNER SECRET 
him by the sea, so that he asked for a small boat that 
he might enter it and escape the crowds, who almost 
overwhelmed him in their eagerness to be healed and 
to hear and see some new thing. It was a spectacular 
occasion, according to the account, for diseases and 
unclean spirits, as they were called, were healed and 
the people admitted, Thou are the Son of God.’ This 
was no place for quietly imparting definite instruc¬ 
tions to the few he felt were ready for his teaching. 
So he told the people who had been healed not to 
blazon abroad who or what he was, for the author¬ 
ities were seeking him even then. Now we come to 
the verse I spoke of. ‘He goeth up into a mountain, 
and calleth unto him whom he would: and they came 
unto him’.” As Mr. Malcolm’s voice ceased and he 
looked intently at the little group of earnest listeners, 
they seemed to catch his meaning. 

“Do you mean,” asked Rose Northup, breathlessly, 
“that he called them through mind alone? If he 
was on a mountain, no ordinary call would reach the 
crowds below at the sea shore where he had just been. 
Does it say his disciples went with him up the 
mountain ?” 

Mr. Malcolm shook his head. “It says ‘He goeth 
up into a mountain, and calleth unto him whom he 
would: and they came unto him. And he ordained 


THE MOUNTAIN CALL 251 

twelve, that they should be with him, and that he might 
send them forth to preach, and to have power to heal 
sicknesses, and to cast out devils. ***** And 
they went into an house. And the multitude cometh 
together again, so that they could not so much as eat 
bread/ If we do our work aright, those who are 
sincere, those who will take up and 'carry on’ the 
message for the millions, will be drawn to us. So, 
Mrs. Rochelle, you can so work as to draw to you, 
to your understanding (loving consciousness of 
Truth), those who need and want what you have. 
And you won’t have to spend your time in merely 
satisfying curiosity seekers or those who are con¬ 
tinually seeking some new thing, like many of the 
multitudes which thronged Jesus, and drove him 
up into a mountain. From the literal and figurative 
mountain or exalted state of mind, he summoned 
the mentalities whom he wanted, the kind of think¬ 
ers who would spread his great message to the 
best advantage. Mark even gives their names, and 
they are spoken of throughout history as 'the twelve.’ 
Think how they were chosen, how they responded and 
came! We, too, in this room have heard the call, and 
have come. Now let us see to it, that we 'carry on,’ 
whether in Stratford, or Switzerland, in California 
or New York. We have the same hungry crowds 


252 THE INNER SECRET 

about us, treading on one another in the mad rush for 
something new, something to quench the longing for 
better things. We have the best thing of all, the Sci¬ 
ence of Being, of our Being and of their Being. You 
here are my 'seven/ a complete number. You are to 
go forth and gather together seventy times seven. 
And I will add,” looking at Aunt Delia, "if Mrs. 
Rowe will consent to accompany me, I shall endeavor 
my best to get away from here next summer and visit 
the brave 'two’ in Switzerland.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A Moonlight Sonata. 

The little group had listened so intently, had tried 
so hard to drink in the significance of every word the 
teacher spoke, that when the telephone gave a sharp 
buzz they were all startled, as though a ring of 
modernity had called them back from Palestine and 
the meeting of the twelve on the mountainside. 

Mr. Fox answered the bell and they heard him say, 
“Yes, this is Willard Fox speaking. Oh, is this you 
Bennett? How is Washington, still pretty warm?” 

“Washington!” gasped Sallie Fox grasping Rose’s 
arm. Rose looked at her quickly. What did it mean ? 
Anything of significance to her? Her heart began to 
pound. Her throat became dry and things looked 
queer. Could she endure it? 

“The State Department, did you say? I can’t hear 
very well. Poor connection. Well, well. * * * * * 
You don’t say so! Hm, hm! Yes, I understand. A 
thousand thanks for calling me up immediately. I am 
returning home next month and will stop off and see 
you. So long, Bennett. Good-by.” 

“Now, Willard Fox, don’t stand there smiling like a 
—like a—simpleton,” said his wife with her customary 
candor. “We don’t care how you look or what you 
253 


254 THE INNER SECRET 

think, what we want to know is, what did Senator 

Bennett have to say about the State Department ?” 

Mr. Fox motioned to Rose to come into the ad¬ 
joining room with him, but she was too faint to stir. 
“I would rather you broke it to me here,” she man¬ 
aged to gasp, “where Mr. Malcolm is. I can’t stand 
the suspense a minute more.” 

“And you won’t have to. The State Department 
had a cable from Bucharest, Roumania, that they have 
Captain Nicholas Louma safe and sound at the em¬ 
bassy there. He is not yet able to travel but can leave 
in probably a month. Then we will have a wedding. 
Sallie, I am not going out to the Coast till I see that 
knot tied. How about you?” Beatrice had her arms 
about Rose who was sobbing from relief and joy. 
Not many dry eyes were left in the room for all knew 
what her problem had been, and they rejoiced with 
her. Mr. Malcolm broke the tension at last by saying, 
“How good Mind is! How it pays to work with pa¬ 
tience and persistence! And now I have a proposal to 
make—if it meets with Miss Northup’s approval. Let 
us all go out to the corner and take the Fifth Avenue 
’bus down to the apartment she has just rented in East 
Eighth Street. It will be a happy memory to have 
when we are far away from each other—in person— 
for I know we will never be far apart in mind. But 


A MOONLIGHT SONATA 255 

when we are in the four quarters of the globe we will 
like to associate the good news of Captain Louma’s 
safety with seeing Miss Northup in their future home. 
What do you say, bride-to-be?” 

By this time Rose had somewhat regained her com¬ 
posure and assented eagerly to the plan, as did all the 
others. “I am so glad I had some of my things sent 
down there yesterday,” she said as they rode along the 
avenue. “I had decided to go there to live, and leave 
my sister’s home, for I have parted from my old way 
of thinking and we are agreed it would be better for 
me to go my way. Rose Ivanovna was coming to 
board with me so I would not be quite alone.” 

“Let her come and live there,” suggested Henri, 
“and you accompany us to Europe and send for Nich¬ 
olas to meet you in Geneva where you can be married 
from our home, then you can return to New York, get 
rid of your girl tenant and settle down in your apart¬ 
ment yourselves.” 

Beatrice enthusiastically seconded the plan, and Mr. 
Malcolm said calmly, “Why not? It sounds wise to 
me. I believe Captain Nicholas needs you.” 

“It sounds too wonderful to be true or possible,” 
breathed Rose. “I don’t see how I could finance such 
a trip. I cannot lay my hand on a thousand dollars 
in a minute. You take my breath away.” 


256 


THE INNER SECRET 

“If you conceive an idea, look at it, and then pro¬ 
ceed to knock it down,” said her teacher, “you won’t 
get very far in bringing out your needs or desires. 
God, Good, supports and sustains every true, wise 
idea. If wise and good this can be done. Decide it 
that way.” 

The avenue as they saw it from the top of the ’bus 
was a blaze of glory. The September night was slightly 
overcast but the air was warm and mellow. As they 
left the lower end of Fifth Avenue and turned in to 
the darker street where was located the old fashioned 
brick house which had been remodeled into small 
suites, they glanced up at the sky and Sallie Fox 
stopped still and pointed dramatically to the slim cres¬ 
cent just visible between two scurrying clouds. 
“Moonlight has come again!” she exclaimed exult¬ 
antly. “Now if I could only hear a nightingale every¬ 
thing would be complete.” They paused on the steps 
of the house and gazed long at the beautiful symbol 
of Nicholas’ prophecy. 

“And the moon was there all the time,” said Mr. 
Malcolm. “So with the truth of things, the everlast¬ 
ing harmony of the universe,—it just IS. Clouds seem 
to cover it from our view at times,—‘whirling snow, 
nightingales gone,’—but it will and must appear, for 
perfection is the great and one Reality.” 


A MOONLIGHT SONATA 257 

“I shall never see the moon without thinking of 
your story and this beautiful ending,” said Mrs. Gard¬ 
ner as they turned to go in. “I do hope we can get 
a glimpse of Luna from one of our windows,” replied 
Rose as she led the way to the third floor and let them 
into a small four-room suite partly furnished. They 
caught a sheen of old rosewood and walnut, of Rus¬ 
sian brasses and crystal candelabra as Rose switched 
on the lights. Nothing was in place so they all vol¬ 
unteered to help her arrange the heavier pieces, and 
soon a great change was wrought and the effect was 
a charming living-room with two long windows giving 
an unobstructed view of the young sickle-moon now 
riding triumphantly above the scattering clouds. 

Rose laid her hand caressingly on the brasses. 
“Nicholas left these in my keeping when he enlisted,” 
she said. “They were brought from Russia by his 
mother, but they had belonged to his grandmother. 
Oh, now that I think it over seriously I see there is but 
one course possible—and that is to go to Roumania 
and bring him home. He needs me, I know, and I am 
going.” She drew Mr. Malcolm aside to one of the 
windows, and said “Your simile of setting up an idea 
and promptly knocking it down did its work. And I 
have thought of a piece of land I own up the state 
which a neighbor has long wanted to buy, but I hes- 


258 THE INNER SECRET 

itated. Now I shall write him that he may have it. 
It won’t lessen my income any for I derived none from 
it. Poor Nicky won’t be very rich after his two or 
three years in prison.” And she shuddered as she 
said it. 

“I wouldn’t mention the word ‘prison’ if I were 
you. I would forget it and help him to. As for his 
finances,—he will have some remuneration from our 
government I should think, back pay—or something. 
They surely will bear the expense of his transportation 
home.” 

“That doesn’t worry me. If I can get to him I shall 
not wait for the cumbersome machinery of Washing¬ 
ton to be oiled and set in motion. How can I ever thank 
you for what you have done for us?” she exclaimed 
impulsively grasping his hand. 

“By doing as I proposed to Mr. and Mrs. Rochelle 
that they do. We cannot stop. We cannot cease to 
think, so let us think to some purpose, with a definite 
goal in view. You will not take any steamer here at 
the New York docks and just aimlessly wander 
around the high seas. You will buy your ticket for 
a certain port, land there, take a train for the certain 
city you wish to visit, which in your case will be Bu¬ 
charest, and taxi to the embassy, ask to see Captain 
Louma and—” 


A MOONLIGHT SONATA 259 

“Oh! It is too wonderful! I see what you mean. 
We must have a goal in our thinking and work as well 
as in our walking or traveling. Mine shall be to gain 
further understanding and to bring what I know to 
the attention of the thousands upon thousands of peo¬ 
ple here who need help and enlightenment. I know 
that I was getting so desperate inside over my lack of 
success in demonstrating the Christ science that I 
was about ready to give up. The sense of Christian 
Science that I had was not holding me. I was all 
questions and buts and ifs. And I know many more 
in the same state of mind.” 

“Yes, we have all been floundering in mental dark¬ 
ness. We in this room have special cause for thanks¬ 
giving for we have found the true light,” said Mr. 
Malcolm. 

“Tell us a little about your experiences, would you?” 
asked Henri. “I want to have these things to think 
over when I get home, where no one will know about 
Mr. Walter and his writings.” 

Mr. Malcolm smiled and replied quietly, “Perhaps 
you will be surprised to know how many, not how few, 
are acquainted in a measure with his work even in 
Europe. My own experience was like that of thou¬ 
sands of others. After the first flush of faith and 
enthusiasm which I had in the beginning of my prac- 


260 THE INNER SECRET 

tice wore off, and I found cases dragging along, my 
own questions not answered satisfactorily, I found 
myself reaching out mentally for something more, some 
further unfoldment or development of Truth. It 
seemed to me it would take aeons for me to arrive at a 
definite understanding of Reality, and be able to prove 
it. This attitude of reaching out, of desiring further 
light, led me to notice one day what Mrs. Eddy said 
in Unity of Good in the chapter entitled ‘Caution in 
the Truth.’ I was amazed as I read it, for I saw that 
she more or less plainly implied that our present sense 
of Truth was but the seed within itself, which was to 
unfold and grow into a mighty tree, like the tiny 
mustard seed of the Bible. She made a definite proph¬ 
ecy that within another fifty years more of Truth and 
Good, God’s nature would be apprehended by us. If 
you will read this chapter carefully you will see what 
I saw. Not two days after I noticed that, a former 
patient whom I had failed to heal, came to see me. 
He was the picture of health, although a man of some 
eighty years, and he brought a story written by a Mr. 
Walter, and asked me to read it, saying he had been 
healed by one of Mr. Walter’s students. I could not 
help being interested, and I have kept on reading his 
writings ever since. They have cleared up in an amaz¬ 
ing way the things I had not understood and had 
puzzled over for hours. 


A MOONLIGHT SONATA 261 

“When I obtained his greatest work, The Sickle, I 
saw at once that I held in my hands that which would, 
and did, enable me to see ‘The What and The Why’ 
of everything, of Truth, of Mind, of Love, of God and 
of man. The author had not been contented to just 
take the statements of Truth as one would take a 
pellet. He tasted them, tested them, analyzed, 
and dissected them, until ‘a wayfaring man, though 
a fool need not err therein/ There is no veil 
in The Sickle. It is the calm, mature reasoning 
of a mentality which is fearless, logical, and 
brave. The results I have had following its study are 
so far ahead of the results I was getting before I 
began reading it, that I am more than satisfied. It 
does away completely with the idea that we are images 
of something else. It shows us how to read Genesis 
in a new light, and that while Mind can never be sub¬ 
divided into pieces or bits, it is nevertheless ‘Christ in 
you, the hope of glory.’ ‘The father in me which 
doeth the works.’ God is not divisible for He is not 
matter, but Mind. And Mind, like the air or the mul¬ 
tiplication table does not fall in the category of divis¬ 
ible things. It showed me that I am a particle of that 
one Mind, that one Intelligence, and with this as a 
basis from which to reason and work, truly ‘nothing 
shall be impossible unto you.’ The image and like- 


262 THE INNER SECRET 

ness are not you, but the image of you. You are far 

greater than you suppose. 

I well remember the first time I tried to demonstrate 
what I had learned after studying The Sickle. I was 
in my office seeing a patient and a parade passed be¬ 
low my window. The patient remarked she would like 
to see the celebrity who was riding by, and I told her 
we could, by leaning out of the windows, gaze down 
on the top of his head. We did so. I did not push 
my window up very far and in drawing back into the 
room I came up with terrific force against the sharp 
window edge. The blow struck me on top of my head 
and after a moment I felt stunned and queer, faint and 
weak. She had not noticed my accident as she looked 
out a moment longer than I. My first thought was, 
'Can I reach my morris chair and stretch out before 
I faint?’ The lady began chatting about the celebrity 
below, and in the midst of her talk I mentally rose to 
the occasion something like this, remembering what I 
had been studying in The Sickle, ‘I am a God-being, 
a Mind-being, so it is for me to decide whether that 
blow hurt me or not. All is mind. I would have to 
admit that I am injured in order to have any bad 
effects. If I am Mind, I alone decide, and I have de¬ 
cided. I am not hurt in the slightest. I am in a per¬ 
petual state of harmony and peace now. The feeling 


A MOONLIGHT SONATA 263 

of injury began instantly to fade away and the lady 
never knew I had hit my head. There were no images 
nor likeness of injury because I knew I had ceased to 
think them, to create them, as taught in the Sickle.” 

“I, too, can testify to the help and enlightenment 
derived from this same book,” said Henri, as their 
teacher paused. “I am ready to get light and informa¬ 
tion on radio from anyone who has proved the success 
and truth of his findings. So in the Science of Being. 
Being is that which is, which has real existence, and it 
cannot be limited in any direction by anybody. Truth 
knows naught of persons or personal authors. It 
just is.” 

“Mr. Malcolm,” said Mrs. Fox. “One thing dis¬ 
turbs me about The Sickle. It is that there is so little 
said about Love, divine Love. I am afraid when I get 
home and introduce the book to my patients they will 
say so too. And what am I to tell them?” They all 
listened eagerly for they had heard the same thing 
voiced before. Mr. Malcolm seemed not at all dis¬ 
turbed as he replied, “Did Jesus spend much time talk¬ 
ing about Love, but was not his every word and act 
Love lived? The definition of Love in Webster’s dic¬ 
tionary is threefold, but only one of the statements 
can possibly refer to Love as used in Christian Science. 
It reads: ‘Benevolence; kindness; charity.’ Is the one 


264 THE INNER SECRET 

who talks about kindness, charity, always the one who 
displays the most of those qualities? Gush is not love. 
As for the phrase ‘divine Love’ it must mean that true 
thinking, scientific knowing, is benevolent, kind, char¬ 
itable, in a word—loving. It always works out to the 
good, to the advantage of all. The effect of true sci¬ 
entific work is always benevolent, never harmful to 
anyone. It is Love, indeed. It is affection of the 
truest sort. ‘I have loved thee with an everlasting 
love, therefore with loving kindness have I drawn 
thee,’ said Isaiah. That which is, the I AM, is kind, 
good and loving, not revengeful nor destructive. In 
that lies our hope. This is beautifully expressed in the 
New Testament, ‘For the law came by Moses, but 
grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.’ Grace and 
truth! What more could we ask? The law in its 
true sense is composed of two parts—grace and truth, 
loving kindness and truth applied. If your patients 
are healed by your new understanding of this law, 
they will have the proof that The Sickle is packed with 
healing love from cover to cover, as the sun’s rays are 
full of warmth.” 

Mrs. Gardner was wiping her eyes as she said in a 
tremulous tone, “I can testify to that, and also to the 
loving efforts of Mrs. Fox and Mr. Malcolm in my 
behalf. It was Love lived and applied, not talked 
merely.” 


A MOONLIGHT SONATA 265 

“And you, Mr. Malcolm, found the sickle with 
which to reap and passed it on to us, to me, and this 
room and the trip to Roumania with all they mean 
are my harvest,” said Rose. 

“Well, it is time I went back to the hotel and to 
bed,” said Aunt Delia, “or I shall get into bad habits 
by the time I tie up my bark in Stratford waters 
again. When I get home I know I shall see so many 
things that want tending to that I shall need a good, 
sharp scythe,—let alone a sickle. Goodness! When I 
think of the years I’ve wasted in thinking the wrong 
way,—letting perfectly good power slip through my 
fingers—or my brain—sowing weeds instead of wheat 
and corn,—I am fairly disgusted with myself.” She 
rose to go, but Henri couldn’t resist having a little fun 
at her expense. 

“Don’t go yet, Aunt Delia. You have us all worked 
up. We cannot tell from your words whether you are 
a mariner, or a farmer, a sower or a reaper. You also 
spoke of using power. You interest me.” 

“Well, you started me on the road to all these ac¬ 
complishments the night you made me solve the riddle 
of the universe. ‘The What and The Why.’ I tell 
you, that night I had to think ” 

“And that is what you are, Mrs. Rowe,” said Mr. 
Malcolm. “A good thinker.” 


266 THE INNER SECRET 

“If I may be so very inhospitable as to turn you all 
out,” interposed Rose rising, “I must hurry out; Eve 
just had a belated idea. I must cable to Nicholas at 
once.” 

“Why hurry?” smiled Mr. Malcolm. “Hurry and 
worry are close of kin. But I, too, must go for I have 
work to do, and we will stop and send your cable be¬ 
fore I leave you.” 

So an hour later Rose wrote the words which were 
to “carry to Europe a submarine whisper, foreshadow¬ 
ing metaphysical science,” as Beatrice had written her 
some months before, copying the words from the 
eleventh edition of Science and Health. 

Mr. Malcolm said, in parting, the closing words of 
the quotation, “ ‘Little by little thought must give up 
its materiality, and become spiritual.’ Then we shall 
not need material methods of transmitting our mes¬ 
sages. Consciousness will send and receive the ideas.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Rose of-the-World. 

A month later two people were sitting in the music 
room of the United States embassy in Bucharest deeply 
absorbed in each other. Sometimes they both talked at 
once, sometimes there was a silence, words were in¬ 
adequate. 

“But, Nicky, I cannot see why you were not re¬ 
ported at once to the authorities here, instead of your 
being ill near Jassy for several weeks and no one know¬ 
ing it. What ailed the gypsies and the Red Cross 
people and all the others?” 

“Easily explained, dear. The night I escaped from 
The Cheka, the Captain of the guards had come to 
take Vladimir Roussoff away to his execution. Owing 
to the lights being out of commission I escaped,—and 
so did he,—although I did not know it at the time. 
Special police were sent out on his trail, even blood¬ 
hounds, too, I believe. When the little gypsy girl, 
Marie (bless her!), was overtaken by one of those 
emissaries, he was looking for Vladimir and not for 
me as she supposed. But , if he had once glimpsed me 
in the wagon he would have known me, of course, and 
I should have been—well, taken back. Thanks to the 
267 


268 THE INNER SECRET 

little red hen’s timely intervention he did not get his 

eagle eyes on your Nicholas.” 

“Oh, Nicky! I can never, never eat another chicken 
as long as I live. I just love them, every one. I would 
feel like a cannibal.” 

“I feel about the same,” said the captain with a 
beatific smile as he gazed with hungry eyes at the 
lovely vision before him. “Chickens and nightingales 
are off my menu card. But I will finish my story of 
why I was not reported sooner. Marie coaxed from 
the gendarme the name of the man he was hunting, 
and of course I was reported as Vladimir, son of Ivan 
Roussoff.” 

“Nicky, I just must see that gypsy girl and her 
father before we go.” 

“You better not omit Ilya or there will be trouble. 
I had hard work to convince him that I had no special 
plan arranged to carry Marie off in my pocket. The 
gypsies are rather jealous,—if you ask me!” 

“How did you convince him?” she demanded with 
a little pucker in her brow. 

“I made him sit down and listen for two solid hours 
to my ravings about you. It was a great relief to talk 
to someone about the only girl in the world, and I 
just did! He thinks you are Beauty, Grace, Won¬ 
derfulness, and Charm personified—as you are.” 

“Nicky!” 


ROSE OF-THE-WORLD 269 

“He is crazy to see you, and when he does he will 
see that there was no chance for Marie in the same 
world with you. In fact, I am most afraid to have 
him see you. You are lovelier than ever. You have 
a different expression, some way! What is it? You 
seem in the clouds, and yet very human too,” 

“I have found out what I am. Not just an image, 
an idea of something else, but I am Mind, Spirit, Soul 
itself, and so are you. Oh, I have so much to tell you, 
not exciting like your tale, but uplifting and wonder¬ 
ful. Mr. and Mrs. Rochelle too, you must meet. You 
know I crossed with them and they want us to be 
married from their home in Switzerland.” 

“Switzerland! What is the matter with little old 
Roumania? The moment I got your cable message 
the good Minister, who has taken me into his very 
home here in the embassy, and I began to make all the 
arrangements for our immediate marriage. No, I 
have the papers in my pocket this very minute. The 
ceremony takes place tomorrow! And, Rose-of-the- 
World, can you dress up a little extra? Not for my 
sake, but for Ilya’s. He expects to see an American 
millionairess bedecked in coronets and stomachers of 
rubies and diamonds I imagine. He—” 

“Ilya! Is he going to be present ?” 

“Why certainly,” said Nicholas in a matter of fact 


270 THE INNER SECRET 

tone. “You don’t seem to understand. They are 

my friends . If they hadn’t picked me up—” 

“Don’t Nicky. I can’t think of it. But I verily be¬ 
lieve it was our work, mine and Mr. Malcolm’s, which 
made them take you along with them. ‘God moves in 
a mysterious way His wonders to perform.’ And of 
course I want Marie and Ilya and the whole tribe at 
our wedding. Only I haven’t any wonderful clothes. 
I brought with me a hastily purchased white lace dress 
and a veil. If you can find a few flowers—” 

“To decorate a Rose?” 

“Roses and valley lillies make a gorgeous combina¬ 
tion. It is what I have always wanted.” 

“Don’t you worry, Rosamonde, Rose-of-the-World. 
Every detail is planned and will be carried out to per¬ 
fection. You know on this part of the globe everything 
has been turned upside down, so in this instance too— 
the groom instead of the bride arranges and gives the 
wedding. At ten o’clock tomorrow morning you will 
see—what you will see. Only come down all dressed 
in the lace frock and the misty veil. I told Ilya that 
was our wedding custom. He can hardly wait to see 
you.” 

So the next morning promptly at ten, Rose Northup, 
enveloped in trailing whiteness, came down the em¬ 
bassy stairs and found at the bottom a dusky, radiant 


ROSE OF-THE-WORLD 271 

gypsy maid with flashing teeth and sparkling eyes, 
dressed in magnificent colors, orange, green, white and 
red. In her hand she held something close and as Rose 
smiled at her through her veil and extended both arms 
the girl knelt at her feet and lifting Rose’s hand kissed 
it fervently, saying in broken English, “I know who 
you are, my nice Gorgio’s bride. Heem nice well 
Gorgio now. Heem very seeck one time. Marie, she 
nurse heem for you. She steal leetle red chick to make 
heem soup. Leetle red chick, she save heem too. Nice 
leetle chick. Nice Gorgio. Onnerstand? You goin’ 
have nice long life togedder. Marie see it in the fu¬ 
ture. Marie bring you someti’ing. Eet belong to her 
grandmudder. Here eet is. Put eet on your neck.” 
And she rose to her feet, shyly lifted the veil and 
slipped around Rose’s neck a chain of silver set with 
fine topazes and a pendant of pearls and opals, in the 
shape of a Greek cross. 

“For me?” exclaimed the astonished Rose fingering 
the costly gift. “No, no, I could not take it from you, 
Marie. You have already done so much. I owe you 
all my happiness,” and she kissed the girl heartily. 

“Eet is now yours, not mine,” said Marie, shaking 
her head. “I give eet to you. You marry my nice, 
happy Gorgio, and I marry Ilya.” 

She led Rose by the arm into the music room where 


272 THE INNER SECRET 

a motley company of embassy folks and swarthy, gay 
gypsies were assembled. Banks of roses and ferns 
were everywhere, while a tiny gypsy girl in native 
costume presented Rose with a bridal bouquet of lillies 
of the valley. Velvety rugs from the nearby Orient, 
priceless porcelains, the grand piano and tall golden 
harp, the flickering candle light from the dozens of 
silver sconces and candlesticks,—for heavy curtains 
shut out the cloudy autumn daylight,—all this made a 
picture Rose would never forget, nor would it ever 
grow dim. Her past of disappointment and anxiety 
made the present so wonderful that she felt she was 
in another world, a world of beauty, joy and fulfill¬ 
ment. What was that they were playing, not the 
familiar wedding music of countless ceremonies she 
had attended, but weird, haunting, played by a harpist, 
and two gypsies on their guitars. A tall, dark fellow 
with an orange sash and gold hoop earrings was carry¬ 
ing the air on his violin softly, caressingly, “My heart's 
own song on moonlight rain, Comes beating on thy 
window pane.” 

Rose heard herself saying, “I will. I, Rosamonde, 
do take thee Nicholas.” And then somebody prayed 
and the music swelled out louder and Ilya became 
nearly frantic, swaying and swinging with his bow 
which was soaring to heights unknown to him before. 


ROSE OF-THE-WORLD 273 

It seemed to Rose afterwards that her wedding had 
been set in an Arabian Night’s splendor, so great a 
contrast was it to the ordinary, conventional life she 
had had in her sister’s home. The exotic and barbaric 
dress of the gypsy guests, their merry smiling chatter, 
the soft candle lights, the air of antiquity about the 
place made it seem like a scene from a play. 

Nicholas, best of all, was at her side, and a wave 
of intense thanksgiving went out from her heart to 
Mind, and to all who had helped her on the way to 
a fuller understanding of it. 

Food was brought to her, delectable things to eat 
and drink while the gypsies played a sweet little strain 
which Nicholas whispered he had written down for 
her to play later, and she must mark it well, for he 
loved it. Marie was singing now, but in Chingeni, so 
Nicholas told her it was about the little red hen run¬ 
ning down a hill, and crying “Come steal me, Gypsy 

a 


man. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

<<J ff 

The first of December found Captain Louma and 
his wife still lingering in Switzerland with their 
friends who insisted that they remain over the Holi¬ 
days. But Rose had set her heart on spending Christ¬ 
mas in their own little apartment on East Eighth 
Street 

“We had great fun giving it a name,” she said to 
Beatrice as they lingered over their breakfast after 
the men had gone out. “I proposed several names, 
but Nicky was pretty silent, so I asked him what was 
on his mind, and he said there was a name he wanted 
but he knew I wouldn’t care for it. Of course I said I 
would, so he told me diffidently that he wanted our 
home called ‘Romany Tan.’ Did you ever hear such an 
absurd name for a metropolitan apartment? If it had 
been for a Ford car or a mountain cabin or something 
like that!” 

“I don’t wonder he wants a gypsy flavor to the place 
after I have heard his story I think it is a fine name,” 
asserted Beatrice warmly. “I hope you didn’t oppose 
it, Rose.” 

“Oppose Nicky, now that I have him safe and 
274 


<(T») 


275 

sound! Ask him, that’s all. Remember you are to 
spend the Holidays next year in Romany Tan your¬ 
self. We bought some gypsy-looking things in Rou- 
mania and Constantinople to send home for it, and I 
know my sister Joan will say the place looks like a 
rummage sale on the lower East side. Her taste runs 
to Louis this and Louis that, spindle leg gilt chairs and 
mauve brocade. Poor Joan, she thinks I have gone 
crazy.” 

“I suppose so. But here is the mail. A letter from 
Mr. Malcolm. Good! Let me read it to you. He is 
so good to write. And here comes Henri and your 
husband. They must hear it too. Sit down, dear 
gentlemen, and I will give you a treat. 

New York, November 24 . 

“Dear Students and Friends: Your good letter re¬ 
joiced my heart for I see you are holding to the truth 
and applying it daily to your problems. It is the 
only way of salvation. 

“Now to answer your questions. No, I do not con¬ 
sider Captain Louma’s escape from the Russian police 
strictly a scientific demonstration of the power of 
spiritual thought. But we must remember two things, 
—he, himself is not a student of Christian metaphysics 
and therefore not able to apply that knowledge as an 
experienced Scientist might have done. We on this 


276 THE INNER SECRET 

side of the world, did not know the exact problems or 
conditions he was meeting, so our work for him had 
to be general, rather than specific. Then too, the po¬ 
liceman was doing his duty, according to his light, he 
was not a gunman nor a murderer, so if he had 
glimpsed the Gorgio lying hidden in the covered wagon 
he would have been obliged to carry him off to Mos¬ 
cow. You say Captain Louma realized while lying 
there some truths about Mind, the one I AM of the 
universe, that it was the individuality of all present, 
the gypsies, the police, himself and the pullet. That 
was excellent, and no doubt it resulted in the occur¬ 
rences taking place as you narrated in your letter. So 
we will give thanks that his escape was made possible, 
and without bloodshed or hatred. We cannot always 
outline how our problems will be solved, but we can 
and must know that we have infinite wisdom to solve 
them with. If any man, anywhere ask Mind for wis¬ 
dom it shall be given him. Perhaps, in this instance, 
Captain Louma’s work, and ours, did more than we 
know. It opened the way of escape for another polit¬ 
ical prisoner, Vladimir Roussoff. It gave Marie an 
opportunity to hear about God for the first time. And 
we do not know how deeply touched the policeman 
was by Truth. As for the little red hen,—I am glad 
she escaped the stew Matushka was to make. Any- 


t< T»» 


277 

way, Captain Louma is alive and on the road to health, 
free again to return home, and Rose Northup Louma 
has gained greater understanding, greater faith in her 
own work, and I hope a lasting happiness. Do not 
tell them, but I will have their apartment all abloom—” 
“Oh, oh, what have I said? I didn’t know there 
were any secrets in the letter,” exclaimed Beatrice, 
“and I just read right along.” 

“You may as well finish it now,” laughed Rose 
delightedly, “Abloom with what?” 

“No, I won’t tell you with what. Let that part be 
a secret. I will skip that and go on with the rest.” 

“You say your husband is now quite free from 
the effects of being gassed in the late war, and that 
he began to improve rapidly as soon as he got a glimpse 
that he, himself, was a particle of Mind, of Mentality, 
of Cause, of Spirit, of Nature, of Life and Love. 
Does that not prove that Mrs. Eddy’s early teaching 
was correct? For she certainly taught it and practiced 
according to that teaching. You will remember that 
during my stay in Stratford in August, your aunt, 
Mrs. Rowe, asked Mrs. Cartwright if I could purchase 
the eleventh edition of Science and Health, which was 
in the Reading Room. I wanted it mostly to convince 
skeptical Scientists what Mrs. Eddy’s early teaching 
was. Mrs. Cartwright was not ready to dispose of 


278 THE INNER SECRET 

the book, but now she has just sent it to me, as she 
says she must stick to the current copies, and in clos¬ 
ing I just want to quote from it, it is so concise and 
clear. Volume i, page 216 . ‘When the circumstance 
is present that you say, according to hygiene, induces 
disease, whether it be air, exercise, heredity, con¬ 
tagion, or accident, perform your office as porter, and 
shut out these unwelcome guests; exercise the mind’s 
authority over the body, and protest against their 
entering your castle, and you can keep them out; 
nothing can affect your body to the issues of pain or 
pleasure, unless the mind says it or fears it, and like a 
frightened porter forsakes his watch and admits the 
intruder through fear, concluding he is not strong 
enough to guard the entrance. But this conclusion 
is false, for the body is mind, and subject to its con-' 
trol. It seems self-acting matter only because mortal 
mind is ignorant of itself and its own action and the 
results upon the body, ignorant that the predisposing, 
remote, and exciting cause of all disease, bad effects 
from climate, accidents, etc., is a law of mortal be¬ 
lief,—a law of mortal mind instead of matter; and in 
proportion as this law is walked over and destroyed in 
mind will the body be free from its penalties. 

I am glad you are finding a response to your work 
in Switzerland and in France. When anyone really 



“I” 279 

sees the truth of his being he cannot be moved. He 
cannot unlearn what he has learned and proved. As 
Mrs. Eddy truly said in that early edition of her book, 
and which is as true now as then, the question today 
is. whether the T is Principle or person, Soul and body, 
God and man/ You and your able husband, I am sure, 
have decided that question to your own satisfaction. 
You can point others to the definition of T or ‘Ego’ 
in the present edition, page 588 , ‘Divine Principle; 
Spirit; Soul; incorporeal, unerring, immortal, and 
eternal Mind. There is but one I, or Us, but one 
divine Principle, or Mind, governing all existence; 
man and woman unchanged forever in their individ¬ 
ual characters, even as numbers which never blend 
with each other, though they are governed by one 
Principle.’ Remember this in her definition of the ‘I’.” 

As Beatrice finished reading Nicholas exclaimed, 
“What was that? I got interested in the ‘I,’ the ‘I 
AM’ of the universe while talking and reading with 
an old Hebrew in The Cheka. It is a subject I am 
going to pursue when I get home, for who has not 
spent hours wondering ‘Who or what am I?’ Even 
Ilya and Marie spoke of it one day. You know the 
Gypsies have a different theory or belief from any 
other people. They seem to think of all Nature as 
little brothers or sisters, as being almost conscious and 


280 THE INNER SECRET 

responding to their talk and affection for them. They 
talk to the brooks, to the trees, to the wind, and of 
course to their animals. I hadn’t worked it out very 
clearly to myself, so couldn’t tell them much. But I 
believed it is all stored up in Genesis.” 

“Don’t you suppose that Genesis and the Apocalypse 
seem beyond our understanding because they are 
veiled, not only by their authors but by the men who 
rewrote and also translated them? They failed to 
understand the original texts, so could not give us an 
absolutely clear and accurate rendition of them,” said 
Henri. 

“Well, so far as we are concerned, Mrs. Eddy says 
‘To admit one’s self Soul instead of body sets us free 
to master the infinite idea’,” said Rose, “and I know 
in working for Nicholas I recalled this statement or 
truth constantly, and tried to realize my God power.” 

“It worked,” said her husband, “for here I am. 
Me void!” 

“Yes, truly,” replied Rose, “and now I must go 
and pack for Romany Tan is calling me, and the Gi¬ 
gantic sails in just four days. Come, Nicky.” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

Romany Tan. 

The great liner was being warped into her dock 
in the majestic North River. The busy little tugs 
were puffing at their task, urging, pulling, pushing and 
crowding the ice-covered monster of the deep into her 
slip, where she seemed loath to go. Her great nose 
kept pointing down stream as though she scented again 
the spray and huge billows she had breasted on her 
westward voyage across the North Atlantic, billows 
she had successfully ridden and risen above, while car¬ 
rying her precious cargo to their destination. Crowds 
of eager watchers were lining her rails, waving to the 
friends awaiting them below on the docks. 

Captain and Mrs. Nicholas Louma stood a little apart 
from the others, out of the bitter wintry wind, in the 
lee, where they were unnoticed and alone. They were 
not gazing with the crowd down towards the huge 
docks. They were looking deeply into each other’s 
eyes, until at last Rose spoke. 

“New York seemed to me an arid waste, after I had 
given you up, and now,—Oh, Nicky, we are here 
together.” 

“And Romany Tan is waiting for us just down 
there,” and he motioned towards the lower part of 
281 


282 THE INNER SECRET 

the city. “You have saved it for a surprise. You have 
not given me a hint what it will be like. But I can 
endure even an attic with you, and after the Cheka. 
And you say this other Rose, the Russian one, will 
be waiting for us there ?” 

“Yes. I cabled her, you know, when we sailed. 
She has been very happy there, she writes me. She 
will dislike to leave. Now that the old father-in-law 
has passed away she has no one.” 

He looked at her searchingly, then said gently, “Is 
it that you want her to remain—with us?” 

“How did you guess? I do and I don’t. She will 
be out all day at her studio, but it would be wonderful 
for her to have a home to return to at nightfall, Nicky. 
She is young, and needs us. And then too, I cannot 
forget that it was she who brought your song, and 
she who called my attention to the significance of your 
words, ‘Moonlight will come again.’ I can hear her 
saying it now. It was such a comfort, dear. I hope 
you will tell her all you can about her Michael.” 

“Indeed I will. He was a brick. Daring and cheery 
and a good buddy. I don’t wonder she loved him. I 
didn’t know what became of him after he got away 
from The Cheka. He was to be transferred to another 
prison, and in the shuffle made his get-away. He often 
spoke of his little bride he left behind. He spoke as 


ROMANY TAN 283 

if her station in Russia would have been above his. 
He was proud of her. Is she refined and talented?” 

“Oh, very. An innate lady. Sallie Fox did good 
missionary work in bringing her out of those sordid 
surroundings, and enabling her to get on in her chosen 
profession, where she is doing so well. She is drink¬ 
ing in with great eagerness, too, all we tell her about 
God and Life and Truth. Her soul was like a parched 
garden. Mr. Malcolm has written me that one could 
almost see her revive like a plant drooping for lack of 
water. He is doing a wonderful work here in New 
York. Oh, I wish he would come down to Romany 
Tan tonight, but that is too much to expect. If it 
hadn’t been for him,—Oh, Nicky!” 

“And Rose Ivanovna and Mrs. Fox and Christian 
Science!” put in her husband. “If this girl stays with 
us you will have two apt pupils, for I, too, want to 
learn who I am and what I am and a million other 
things.” 

Two hours later, the travelers turned to go up the 
steps of the house in East Eighth Street which Rose 
Northup had selected as their abiding place, when a 
tall figure came hurrying towards them from the op¬ 
posite direction. 

“Mr. Malcolm!” exclaimed Rose delightedly, ex¬ 
tending both hands impulsively. 


284 THE INNER SECRET 

“And this is our nightingale returned, I know,” said 
Mr. Malcolm as he grasped Nicholas’ hand before Rose 
had a chance to introduce the two men. 

“And you are the one who made the moonlight 
to come again,” responded Captain Louma heartily 
gripping the other man’s hand in a clasp that almost 
made him wince. They hastened up the stairs chatting 
merrily and in the open door stood Rose Ivanovna 
smiling bravely, trying not to think of the contrast 
between this joyous home-coming and her sad news 
of Michael’s fate. She held in her hand a small cop¬ 
per tray or plate, richly embossed. 

“Rose Ivanovna, let me present to you my Nicholas, 
Captain Louma. Mrs. Tschikonoff, Nicky. Let us in, 
Rose Ivanovna. Why keep us standing here in the 
hall ?” asked Rose, curiously, at length. 

“Captain Louma, he knows,” smiled Rose Ivanovna, 
then with a few words in Russian she proffered him 
the tray whereon they noticed for the first time a piece 
of bread and a small glass dish of salt. 

“Oh, the old Russian custom!” exclaimed Nicholas, 
delightedly, as he took a pinch of salt and ate a morsel 
of the bread, then passed them to his wife. “We 
wouldn’t think of moving from even one house to 
another in the old days in Russia, without this little 
homely ceremony. I have heard my mother speak of 
it often.” 



ROMANY TAN 285 

Rose ate the salt with a wry face, but admitted that 
it was a very pretty custom and she loved it, then 
pushed on into the living-room where she found it 
had been converted into a bower of roses. They 
filled the bowls and vases scattered throughout the 
room, and the air was heavy with their perfume. Rose 
Ivanovna had lighted the tall candles in the Russian 
candlesticks, and a low fire burned on the hearth. 

Nicholas Louma gazed at the room as if in a daze, 
then exclaimed, “Is it I who am here? Is this Rom¬ 
any Tan? Am I dreaming or what ?” 

Rose Northup Louma could only stand and gaze 
from one to the other of the little group, her heart 
beating too rapidly for words to come. 

Rose Ivanovna broke the silence. “You both like 
eet? Mr. Malcolm, he fix the flowers. He—” 

“Don’t give me credit, dear friends. It was Sallie 
Fox’s idea, this turning your room into a bower of 
roses. I only carried out her orders. She was so dis¬ 
appointed that she could not give a finishing touch to 
it by having a real nightingale, but—” Just here a 
bird’s song thrilled through the room, warbling and 
trilling out his ecstacy of heart. The travelers turned 
quickly to discover in a corner well hidden by the roses 
a talking machine which was reproducing the natural 
singing of a real nightingale, whose liquid notes were 


286 THE INNER SECRET 

flooding the room with such melody that they stood 
as though spellbound, then Rose sank on a chair and 
covered her face with her hands, saying, “I am really 
too happy!” 

“Well, I am not,” said her husband practically. “I 
can take in quite a lot more, even. After a season 
abroad, under the circumstances, I can take in all the 
happiness New York has in store for me. Rose Ivan¬ 
ovna, haven’t you anything to eat in this place?” 

She laughingly led the way to a tiny dining alcove 
where the table was laid for four, whispering, “Din¬ 
ner will be ready in a half hour. Then I hope before 
I go away later, you will tell me just a word about my 
Michael.” Her tone was so wistful that Nicholas sat 
down at once and gave her a hasty sketch of his ac¬ 
quaintance with private Michael Tschikonoff, gave it 
in the soft Russian tongue which made it seem all the 
more real and precious to little Rose Ivanovna. 

At last as he paused she said simply in English, “I 
thank you, so very much. But you make big mistake. 
My Michael, he not dead. There is no death, mind 
cannot die.’ I read it in a little paper Mr. Malcolm he 
bring me. My Michael, he just the same,—only bet¬ 
ter. I not very lonesome now, not often.” 

As Rose Ivanovna left Nicholas to see to the dinner 
in the tiny kitchen, he rejoined his wife and Mr. Mai- 


ROMANY TAN 287 

colm, saying, “Tell me, Rose-of-the-World, how you 
located this charming place. Did you use your Chris¬ 
tian Science in the matter ? I am such a novice in this 
new way of looking at things that I wouldn’t even 
know how to go to work to do anything.” 

Rose smiled up at him as she said, “We use it for 
everything, even releasing our husbands from prisons. 
Yes, I will tell you about this place. I lay awake one 
night,—one of hundreds—thinking of you and of 
what might have happened, and became so nearly 
frantic that in order to get my mind away from such 
gruesome things I tried to picture to myself a little 
apartment of four rooms here in the city. I laid them 
out in my mind, just how they were to be arranged, 
and then I furnished them. I counted up the pieces of 
housekeeping utensils, the rugs and a few things I 
already possessed, and calculated the cost of purchas¬ 
ing enough more to fit the rooms out to my satisfac¬ 
tion. I decided I would like to move to a new neigh¬ 
borhood, that is, away from the locality where I had 
spent such a very unhappy three years, so I remem¬ 
bered this part of the city, where as a child I used to 
come to visit some old ladies on Tenth Street. It ap¬ 
pealed to me, as being quiet and just what I would 
like. Then I remembered that in Christian Science 
we had been taught we must not outline at all. That 


288 THE INNER SECRET 

Truth would guide us to our right place. What 1 
meant by Truth will guide us,’ I don’t exactly know. 
My ideas of the word Truth spelled with a capital 
were extremely vague. I did not understand as I 
do now that Truth is just true, correct thinking in 
accordance with the eternal facts of life. So with 
dismay in my heart at my audacity in outlining what 
I really wanted, even though I hadn’t the faintest 
idea that it would 'come true,’ I turned my face into 
my pillow,—and—oh, no, I didn’t go to sleep. I wept 
for hours more. 

The next day when I was in the reading room a 
lady came in and asked for an old edition of Science 
and Health and said it was clearer than the present 
ones we have. Then she read my problem in my eyes, 
and said she was coming back next day to talk to 
me. It was Mrs. Fox. You all know what she and 
Mr. Malcolm did for us, and after I had studied the 
literature they told me of, I saw that only by outlining 
good and right things for ourselves did we get them. 
That we have to admit them into our consciousness 
much as we admit people to our homes. If we keep 
them out by saying, 'Perhaps it isn’t right for me to 
have thus and so,’ or, ‘I must not outline at all, just 
trust,’ we will get little. If, as I have learned lately, 
right thought is the one and only creative element 


ROMANY TAN 289 

we must use it, and outline ‘according to the pattern 
shown thee in the mount.’ Moses and Joshua cer¬ 
tainly outlined. The tabernacle was outlined from 
the stakes to the borders of the curtains and the 
fringes on the priests’ garments. Jesus told his dis¬ 
ciples in just what house to prepare the passover, and 
where they would find the ass’ colt whereon he wished 
to ride. He said ‘Whatsoever things ye desire, when 
ye pray, believe that ye receive them and ye shall have 
them.’ I have found that we must sense ourselves as 
already in possession of the particular good thing we 
desire. Of course, Nicky, you understand, this is not 
just a selfish getting what you want regardless of right 
or wrong or the rights of other people. But this little 
apartment was born first in my desire for it, but I 
waited until after, weeks after, getting your song 
before I really looked it up. I came down here and 
found just what I wanted without any more delays. 
The very day I moved in some of my things I received 
word that you were at the embassy in Bucharest.” 

“And the next day we had your cable. I wished 
then that radio science had progressed far enough to 
transport you overseas all in a wink,” replied her hus¬ 
band looking lovingly down at her earnest face. 

“Jesus was far ahead of his time, wasn’t he?” re¬ 
joined Mr. Malcolm. “It is recorded of him that he 


290 THE INNER SECRET 

once entered into a ship on a lake and immediately 
the ship was at the land whither they went. No time, 
no distance. You, yourself, are really where your 
heart is, where your very inmost desires and thoughts 
are. Jesus knew that his body, as Mrs. Eddy clearly 
states in her early book, was but “a reflex shadow of 
immortal soul,” so some day we shall be able to prove 
this by transporting our bodies with our thinking, as 
Jesus did for our enlightenment on several occasions, 
even through closed doors. What great achievements 
lie ahead of us now that we begin to understand that 
we are Mind, Intelligence! I suppose the marvels 
which will come to light during the next ten years will 
far surpass even those of the decade just past. It 
really is no small thing to sit here in New York city 
on a cold winter’s night and hear the voice of an Euro¬ 
pean nightingale who poured forth his song under 
some summer moon. And we have another record 
I want you to hear played by a harpist, a ’cellist and 
a violinist. You may recognize it and if you do, please 
join in with me.” He walked over to the rose-em¬ 
bowered corner and in a minute they heard the familiar 
accompaniment played on the harp: 










ROMANY TAN 291 

Rose Ivanovna appeared suddenly in the kitchen 
doorway all unconscious that she held in her hand a 
bright copper kettle. As Rose Louma looked at her 
with tears of joy in her eyes she caught the gleam of 
jewels on the wall at the little Russian girl’s right. 
It was her Ikon, her sacred picture which had for a 
year carefully sheltered and guarded the original man¬ 
uscript of Nicholas’ song. She had given it to Ro¬ 
many Tan. 

Mr. Malcolm’s strong voice in which Nicholas’ 
tenor joined now rang out: 

“My heart’s own song, on moonlight rain, 
“Comes beating on my window pane.” 

Rose Louma arose and walked to the little Russian 
girl’s side and pointing to the picture said, “You will 
not have to be parted from it for Captain Louma and 
I are going to keep you here with us—always.” 

Rose Ivanovna could only stare in bewilderment 
and joy, until Rose motioned to her to join in the 
closing words of the song, only they sang it, “Moon¬ 
light has come again.” 

As the music ceased Captain Louma strolled over 
to a little table and absently picked up a small oblong 
package. “What is that, Nicky?” asked his wife. 
“Another surprise?” “It is an express package ad¬ 
dressed to us both, and the shipper is—hm,—is—Mrs. 
Delia Rowe, Stratford.” 


292 THE INNER SECRET 

Almost before he had finished reading the name 
Rose had torn off the wrappings and opened the 
wooden box. On top was a note in Mrs. Rowe’s 
precise handwriting. 

“Dear Rose and Nicholas: Here is a treasure which 
I want you to keep as long as you live on this planet! 
I picked it up unexpectedly and want you to have it, 
so am sending it along to greet you on your arrival 
home—from prison, for you, Rose, know what it is 
to be in Doubting Castle, and are not unacquainted 
with its keeper, Giant Despair. But, like Christian 
and Hopeful, you remembered you had a key called 
Promise, which would open all doors, and you have 
proved it to be so. God’s promises are true, the key 
worked, and you two, and I are now viewing the De¬ 
lectable Mountains. You will remember Christian and 
Hopeful met four Shepherds on these Mountains, 
named Knowledge, Experience, Watchful and Sincere, 
who gave them much instruction and showed them 
many things. As they parted from them, the Pilgrims 
sang this song which I have written on the fly-leaf of 
the book I am giving you. Also read at once the par¬ 
agraph I have marked on the closing pages. Come and 
see your loving Aunt Delia. P. S. My Home is on a 
hill overlooking the valley and the sea, and I’ve named 
it 'Delectable Mountain’.” 


ROMANY TAN 293 

“Dear Aunt Delia, how wonderful of her!” said 
Rose. “She is a royal soul.” And to their amaze¬ 
ment the book when unwrapped proved to be a copy 
of the First Edition of Science and Health with Key 
to the Scriptures. Too astonished and delighted to 
utter a word she handed the book to Nicholas who 
obeyed Mrs. Rowe’s directions and real aloud from 
the fly-leaf: 

“Thus by the Shepherds, secrets are reveal’d, 

Which from all other men are kept conceal’d; 
Come to the Shepherds, then, if you would see 
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be.” 
“You read the other reference, Mr. Malcolm. We 
want you to have a share in it too,” said Rose. Mr. 
Malcolm took the book and turning to the last pages 
read hastily to himself the marked passage, then ex¬ 
claimed, “How remarkable! What a prophecy! Note 
it well.” Then he read aloud the significant words from 
the pen of the discoverer and founder of Christian 
Science: 

“Some of our present readers may wish to tone 
down the radical points in this work, others to cast 
them overboard, yet Science will reproduce itself, and 
as mind changes base from matter to Spirit, there will 
be severe chemicalization. Truth cannot be lost; if 
not admitted today in its fulness the error that shuts 


294 THE INNER SECRET 

it out will occasion such discord in sickness, sin, etc., 
that future years will point it out, and restore at 
length the fair proportions and radical claims of Chris¬ 
tian Science.” 


FINIS. 


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